


Whirligig

by hardly_loquacious



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Third Person Limited, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardly_loquacious/pseuds/hardly_loquacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac knows she'll never be able to fix it.  Maybe it isn't fixable.<br/>She still wants to make things better for him though.  Because she's lonely, and he is too.  And that's partly her fault.  So she's going to be his friend, and she's going to try and help him be less lonely.<br/>She even has a plan!<br/>She just isn't going to tell him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cylonish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylonish/gifts).



> Hello everyone,and welcome to the story that I wrote basically because I wanted to try writing from Mac's POV. It's good fun. 
> 
> A couple of things though, I started writing this in about May, way before S2 aired. So there are things in this story (generally minor things, as far as I’m aware so far) that are inconsistent with S2. My apologies. What I was assuming when I wrote this was that S2 would end, and everybody would still have their jobs, and that most things in the newsroom would be fixable within a few months, or at least on their way back to stability. In order for this story to make any sense, it’s probably best if you make those same (relatively non-taxing) assumptions. I would appreciate it, at least.
> 
> Also, thank you to Steph for betaing this. I’m sure I drove her crazy more than once throughout the process, but she was patient, and I appreciate it.
> 
> And lastly, thank you to cylonish for making really lovely accompanying artwork, which can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/948781)

She was late.

Well, given that she usually got to work at least half an hour earlier than she actually needed to, strictly speaking she wasn’t so much _late_ as on time.

Late for her though.

Mac sighed as she walked through the front doors of the ACN building. Because she was late enough that it was possible someone would comment on it if they noticed. Sloan definitely might. But Sloan wasn’t usually in the newsroom when Mac got in. Not when Mac got in at her usual time at least.

Sloan might be around when Mac walked through the bullpen doors today though. She turned and headed towards security, trying to banish images of smirking colleagues from her head.

Mac didn’t know what was wrong. Not with Sloan, with herself. Nothing was wrong with Sloan. Not that Mac knew of at least. But Mac was definitely experiencing minor issues of some kind.

She wasn’t sure her brain was screwed on straight today. At the very least she hadn’t quite woken up yet. 

Mac sighed as she showed her pass to the security guards stationed just inside the doors of the building. Then she turned towards the elevators. In her head, she kept drifting back to the disaster that had been her morning.

First, she’d forgotten to program her coffee maker, and the resulting lack of caffeine, Mac firmly averred, was the cause all subsequent problems. Caffeine-less, she’d apparently forgotten how to work her shower, staring at the knobs for a good thirty seconds before actually turning them on. After that, finding appropriate clothes to wear presented her next challenge. Mac was sure that she’d mentally decided on her outfit for the day the night before, but damned if she could remember what it was when it came time to actually get dressed. That had resulted in a delay of at least ten minutes. 

Then she burnt her toast and spilled her yogurt. She spent eight minutes searching for her right shoe, and she very nearly left her apartment without her purse (okay, she _had_ left her apartment without it, but not her building; given the rest of her morning, Mac was counting that as a win).

Mac had even skipped a run to the coffee shop (her typical source of caffeine on the mornings she and her coffee maker were fighting) because she was running so late. So now she was power-walking down the hallway towards the elevators twenty minutes before the first rundown meeting of the day and half-dreading any potential interrogation.

Luckily most of the people she worked with wouldn’t even notice her arrival time. Mac was sure Jim wouldn’t, for one. And if other people did notice, they wouldn’t comment.

Not most of them at least. 

A smirking Sloan was still a definite possibility.

And there was a chance Mac would get a comment of some kind from Don if she happened to pass him in the hallway. “Hey Mac, looks like eight o’clock’s becoming a little lax these days. If you need a hand, ten could always step in.”

Mac practically see Don’s smug grin.

At least Will probably wouldn’t notice. His own arrival time was pretty flexible, and he never seemed to keep track of anyone else’s. Not based on the number of times he asked Mac (daily) if some staff member or other was in the office yet. She doubted he kept track of what time she started her day. Or if he did (which part of Mac’s brain argued that he _might)_ , then he was probably practical enough to assume she had an appointment of some kind that had delayed her. 

Unlike impractical her, who’d already over-analyzed every possible outcome of her delay.

She really hated being late.

It was small comfort to Mac to conclude that really, most people wouldn’t even say anything.

Still, the biggest hypothetical problem was Sloan.

Mac could just see it now, Sloan’s sly comment. Maybe even a knowing smile from the other woman as she asked if Mac was just getting in, probably adding that it was late for her, wasn’t it? Sloan’s tone deliberately just a smidge too innocent to actually be so. Mac was sure Sloan would throw in an artistic eyebrow raise just for good measure. She was damn good at those.

And Mac would try very hard not to feel a little self-conscious about her arrival time. Which was ridiculous, _obviously._ She was a grown woman for god’s sake! A grown woman who unfortunately had a practically pathological work ethic and a guilty conscience. A dangerous combination when she was irritated with herself for a mistake (any mistake, no matter how minor).

She wasn’t sure why she was so worried about it. It was absurd. 

She knew she was being absurd. 

She was allowed to show up at different times once in a blue moon. Like when she actually had an appointment of some kind. There were billions of explanations for her tardiness, all of them far more reasonable than her own brain’s fixation on the issue. She just wasn’t awake enough to deal with any of this.

Mac growled in frustration, pushing the button to call the elevator with more force than necessary and trying to force her mind towards actual work. 

She didn’t succeed.

Because she knew that if she was really unlucky, after the eyebrow raise, Sloan would start implying all sorts of reasons why Mac might be arriving late for work. Reasons that would undoubtedly be more fun than the truth (that sometimes her brain just refused to wake up with the rest of her body). Reasons involving potential men that Mac had met and brought back to her apartment, or maybe she’d gone back to theirs (Mac didn’t know the details of Sloan’s lurid little fantasies; she had no idea which option Sloan would pick). Mac had mentioned a cute guy at her gym to her friend a few weeks ago. Maybe Sloan would single in on him as a potential paramour. And the cause of a very late night, and consequent late morning.

Mac stifled a groan as she waited for the elevator.

If her luck ran its usual course, that would be the _exact_ second Will walked past. And even though they’d been working together for a few years now, and even though the two of them really were absolutely, perfectly _fine_ with everything, and even though they’d both been on dates with other people in the interim (though not in a while, at least not on her side), there was always a bit of residual awkwardness between Will and herself when actual talk of dating came up.

Mac cursed her tardiness yet again. Particularly since she didn’t think Will was seeing anyone right now. 

Not that she kept track or anything. But there hadn’t been any drop dead gorgeous women stopping by the newsroom lately and fawning all over him. 

Mac scowled to herself as she stepped onto the elevator. She considered her options on the way up.

Maybe there was a way she could sneak into her office, avoiding Sloan and thus the entire unfortunate scene.

Unfortunately her office was on the opposite side of the bullpen from the doors. And given all of the glass on the floor, there was no way she could avoid detection entirely. Unless something unexpected happened simultaneously on the other side of the room.

And she was _not_ going to create some kind of ridiculous diversion. She had her pride.

Maybe Sloan would be in a meeting... Or pursuing a story! She _was_ a news reporter. Maybe she would be off finding a story somewhere, chasing down a lead, speaking to a source. Yes. Mac would hope for that. She would hope that everyone in the newsroom would be busy and she wouldn’t have to answer irritating questions about the fact that she was (sort of) late, in case any were asked.

Then Mac remembered that she was their boss, and that it was none of their business, and that she hadn’t done anything wrong. So she was just going to walk in there and go about her business, woe to anyone who tried to get in her way.

Resolution made, Mac confidently strode down the hallway and through the doors to the newsroom, nodding at anyone who happened to look up.

No one paid her any particular attention at all. Not other than Jim’s quick question about whether one of the monitors in the control room had been fixed (it had).

Mac resisted the urge to repeatedly bang her head on her desk when she got into her office.

She really should have seen this coming. After all, the newsroom’s reaction to their boss showing up a little behind schedule (but still in time to make all of her meetings), was the same reaction as every single other sane person: They’d barely noticed.

But then, Mackenzie admitted, she herself often _wasn’t_ sane.

She _always_ did this. Over-thought even the simplest things. It was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing when there was actually a genuine problem to solve (quick-thinking and analysis had saved her more than once when she’d been embedded). But it was a curse when the problem was imagined. Sometimes she couldn’t get her brain to just shut down.

At least she could blame this particular overreaction on the fact that she wasn’t quite awake yet. Or she hadn’t been.

Her brain’s whirlings were always worse when she was tired or stressed.

Sitting here, at her desk, waiting for her computer to boot up, Mackenzie felt like herself again. She was awake now. Her brain was kicking into gear. The news had that effect on her.

With a couple of clicks of her mouse she opened her e-mail so she could check it before diving into the day. Mac skimmed the subject lines of the stream of unopened messages confronting her and trying to decide which she needed to read before the rundown meeting.

Her early-morning foolishness didn’t even cross her mind again until she was walking back across the bullpen to the conference room. Now that she was feeling functional, she couldn’t believe she’d gotten so worked up about arriving to work slightly later than usual. It was absurd. It was days like these that she felt like she wasn’t actually a grown woman at all.

Talk about blowing a situation completely out of proportion.

She’d built it all up in her head so much (contingency plans and everything!), that it was almost a letdown when no one even noticed that she’d been running a bit late. Mac shook her head as she settled into her chair for the rundown meeting.

Only to have a paper cup full of coffee appear in front of her.

She let her eyes flicker up the arm holding her gift and was surprised to see Will on the other end of it.

Her face lit up as she realized he looked slightly awkward, avoiding her eyes for the briefest of seconds before his gazed shifted back to her face. “Noticed you weren’t in when I got here,” he told her gruffly. “Thought I’d grab an extra cup of coffee, just in case.”

Mac smiled. Whenever he did something like this, and she was reminded of just how well they still knew each other, she couldn’t help the warm fluttery feeling that appeared in her chest. “Thanks.”

She thought she saw the corners of his mouth quirk up just the slightest little bit. But she might have been imagining it.

“I assume nothing’s wrong?” he asked.

Mac shook her head, stupidly pleased by the hint of genuine concern she caught in his tone. “Just a rather extreme case of the Monday mornings.”

Will nodded, relaxing slightly, before turning and heading to the other end of the table.

Mac leaned back in her chair, pondering her coffee. So he _had_ noticed. 

Well, that was nice. 

Will would know all about her occasional issues in the morning. He’d have known just how much she might need the coffee.

And he’d have laughed at her if he’d realized the extent to which she’d overanalyzed things. He always had in the past.

That thought cut through the warmth in her chest, leaving her feeling vaguely sad, as thoughts like it always did. And, Mac rather suspected, always would. She was about to indulge in a sigh, when the taste of coffee with just the right amount of sweetness pulled her out of it. 

Instead she pushed her wistfulness aside in favour of starting the meeting, asking in a loud (and cheerful) voice for story ideas.

But like so many thoughts in her head, pushing a voice aside didn’t silence it. In fact, Mac was secretly convinced that sometimes her brain worked on at least two levels. One level focused on dealing with what was actually going on around her while the second grabbed hold of any and all stray thoughts that were unresolved and picked them apart, only to thrust them forward again the second the upper level of her brain had a quiet moment. The notion that Will might understand more about the structure of her mind than anyone on the planet bounced around her subconscious for the entire rundown meeting, picking up steam, only to re-emerge in the foreground of her mind when she was back in her office and finishing up the coffee he’d brought her.

Mac sighed as she tossed the empty cup in the trash.

It’d been sweet of him to notice that she wasn’t in. Of course, that was what Will did. He noticed. (When he wasn’t going through life on autopilot.) He noticed things that mattered to him.

So he _had_ noticed she was late.

Because apparently sometimes she still mattered to him, probably in spite of himself. Mac could only imagine that part of Will wished he could go back to comfortably hating her like he had for years. The place they were in now was far more complicated. Uncertain, really.

Mac dropped wearily into her chair. She’d gotten over her mental issues of the morning, only to pick up a whole new set once she got to work.

And all because a different Newsnight anchor than the one she’d expected had noticed she’d been running late.

Mac bit her lip, the tenderness she’d managed to tamp down on in the bustle of the rundown meeting exploding in her chest again now that things were quieter.

It was awfully inconvenient sometimes, working with a man you were still in love with. 

Particularly one who used to love you. 

And she did. Still love Will, that is. 

She’d tried not to. God she’d tried not to. More than once actually. She’d tried when she’d been embedded after he’d ordered her out of his life. She’d tried again, multiple times, when she’d come back to New York and been confronted by just how much he hated her.

She’d failed each and every time. More fool her.

Because it turned out that not only did she have a brain that couldn’t let anything go, she had a heart that functioned exactly the same way.

So, pathetic as it was, she still loved him. Stubbornly.

Maybe her heart was making up for the length of time it’d taken her to realize she loved in the beginning of their relationship by being irritatingly constant now.

Will had always been constant. His feelings had been obvious. Steady. Terrifying. Until one day, they stopped frightening her. Unfortunately, by then it was too late. She’d already destroyed their relationship; she just hadn’t told him yet.

Will had definitely loved her.

And sometimes she wondered if maybe, if he still... (Sometimes she hoped.)

Not that she could ever ask.

And not only because unrequited love was always painful, and it would just about kill her if he said no.

She didn’t have the right to ask how he felt about her. She was the one who’d destroyed their relationship. She was the one who’d betrayed him. Who’d destroyed what little ability Will had developed to open up to people and trust them since his nightmare of a childhood.

There’d been a brief period over a year ago, after he’d left her a voicemail while high that he wouldn’t repeat sober, when Mac had thought that maybe she’d found the courage (or the audacity) to ask him, albeit in a roundabout way, how he felt. But he’d shut her down so ruthlessly as to leave her in absolutely no doubt as to where he stood on the whole “opening up to Mackenzie” issue.

And then the voicemail hadn’t even turned out to be what she’d thought it was (not that she’d heard it from him).

So she’d backed off, put firmly in her place.

She couldn’t ask him how he felt and the two of them had long since passed the point where she could tell him how _she_ felt.

It would hurt too much to say it only to have him strike a lance through her chest when he rejected her. It would hurt too much, and it would destroy the fragile truce they’d created around the show.

Mac shut her eyes tightly. She couldn’t say it. She didn’t have the right to say it. 

She _could_ do the show. 

They could make something together. She could help him be the man he should be, at least professionally. The man he’d been born to be. The man he _wanted_ to be, when he wasn’t frightened of the consequences. 

She could do little things for him. Things a friend would do. Small kindnesses. Share a drink at a bar with colleagues after work. Bring him pyjamas if he was sick. Organize a Valentine’s day gift from the office. Kick him in the pants when he needed it. Offer a sympathetic ear when he was ranting about all that was wrong with the world. Share Chinese food after a long day. 

Mac glanced at her trash can.

A perfect cup of coffee, exactly when it was needed on a bad morning.

Her eyes focussed on the tip of the empty cup peeking out over the top of the bin.

She couldn’t say I love you. In no way could she say it. Absolutely no way.

At least not out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

Saying anything about their relationship out loud just wouldn’t go well for her. Mac knew Will well enough to know that.

She couldn’t tell him how much she missed him. Couldn’t tell him that if he ever thought that they could try again, that she... she...

Shaking her head to clear it, Mac turned her attention back to her computer screen. She had an actual show to produce tonight. 

She couldn’t spend her day obsessing about a coffee cup and any meaning it may or may not have had (though she was sure a small part of her brain would try). Mac flipped open her notebook to the page where she’d written down a tentative list of the stories they’d be covering in the show and started to write a list of things she’d have to do before the broadcast.

Mac was just finishing up when she heard her office door open. She held up a single finger as she wrote down the last thing on her list (ask the sound guys whether the sound Mac kept hearing in her headset was a flaw with the equipment that needed to be fixed, or an indication that she was developing a brain tumour), before looking up at her visitor.

It was Sloan.

“Am I bothering you?” Sloan asked. “Because I can come back later.”

Mac shook her head. “Just finishing a list for tonight’s show,” she assured Sloan.

Sloan nodded, sitting in the chair across from Mac’s desk, glancing at the piece of paper Mac was scribbling on. “You don’t have a brain tumour, Kenzie.”

Mac smirked. “I admit that the possibility is unlikely, but if that’s the case then I’d really like my headset fixed.”

“Fair enough.”

“Did you need something?” Mac asked, when Sloan didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Sloan leaned back in her chair. “I can’t just drop by to chat?”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “You _can_...”

“Maybe I am today,” Sloan said lightly.

Mac wasn’t buying it. “Are you about to ask me for a few extra minutes on tonight’s show? Because you’ll need to convince me. We may not have any life-changing stories in tonight’s show, but the broadcast’s still pretty full. And there’s only so long I can get people to listen to the problems with the economy.”

“I think that even if they’ve proven nothing else, the past few years have proven that I can always use a few extra minutes to explain the economy to people,” Sloan said dryly. “So if you’ve got the time...”

“Not without a specific reason,” Mackenzie said firmly, though with a smile. It was a familiar argument.

Sloan smiled back. “I’ll get you one of these days.”

Mac laughed. “You make me sound like some sort of dungeon master. I give you extra time when I can, and when it’s necessary. Not when you just want to give an economics lecture.”

“I get enough of that when I’m actually, you know, giving economics lectures,” Sloan told her. “Actually, I was dropping in to tell you that I’m just about done my script for tonight, and I wanted to run something by you.”

Mac interrupted her. “I’m sorry, _you_ wanted to run something by _me_ that’s related to _economics_?”

Sloan continued on blithely. “I wanted to run it by you; I was going to ask if you wanted to go for coffee.”

Mac suddenly got suspicious.

Sloan kept going. “I was going to ask if you needed a caffeine fix, but then, by pure chance, I happened to hear that someone else had already provided you with one this morning.”

Mac kept her expression neutral, now knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “I often drink coffee, Sloan. Particularly in the morning.”

Sloan went in for the kill. “Does Will often bring it to you?” she asked innocently

Mac sighed, leaning back in her chair. “So, you heard about that, huh?” Of course she had. Gossip was always thriving in the newsroom.

Sloan nodded. “Heard Maggie mentioning it to Kendra. She seemed to think it was sweet.”

Mac huffed, not sure if she was annoyed or amused. “She would.”

“So?” Sloan asked.

“So what?” Mac asked, ignoring Sloan’s expression. “Yeah, Will brought me a cup of coffee this morning. It wasn’t a marriage proposal. Hell, it wasn’t even breakfast. It was just coffee. It’s not a major news event.”

“Obviously it is, if a newsroom’s buzzing,” Sloan pointed out.

Mac just glared.

Sloan shrugged. “Okay, the newsroom’s not buzzing. It was mentioned once, or twice. Maybe three times. Four at the most. But the event does beg the obvious follow-up question.”

Mac rolled her eyes, recognizing that she might as well just get it over with. “Which is?”

“Why is Will bringing you coffee in the first place?” Sloan asked.

“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?” Mac wondered, trying to sidestep the question.

Sloan didn’t let her. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sloan confirmed.

“May I ask why not?” Mac asked. After all, Sloan wasn’t the only one who knew how to conduct an interview.

“I’ll ask the questions,” Sloan said immediately, causing both women to smile.

“Thought so. You’re afraid to ask Will?” Mac surmised.

Now it was Sloan’s turn to glare. “I am not afraid of Will!”

Mac smirked, feeling like she had the upper hand for the first time in the conversation. “Mmhm.”

“I’m not!” Sloan insisted. “I just know better than to... to...”

Mac deflated slightly. “To ask him about anything that concerns me,” she said softly.

Sloan nodded. “He doesn’t always react well.”

“Whereas I absolutely _love_ it when you grill _me_ ,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“Your poker face isn’t as good,” Sloan shrugged. “And anyway, isn’t this exactly what friends are supposed to do?”

Mackenzie softened in spite of herself. “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

“I’ll decide if it was a big deal or not,” Sloan insisted. “You know I’m not going to leave your office until you tell me.”

Mac shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I think you’re going to be disappointed. Will got into work before I did today. He doesn’t usually, so I guess he figured I must have been have slept through my alarm or been having trouble waking up, or something. So he picked up an extra coffee for me when he went to get his own.”

“Why?” Sloan asked.

“I assume because he figured I wouldn’t have time to get _my_ own,” Mac said. “Which was true.”

Sloan watched her for a moment. “That was considerate of him,” she said eventually.

“Will can be a considerate guy,” Mac confirmed. “When he’s not being a complete ass.”

“Did you thank him?” Sloan asked.

“No, I threw the coffee back in his face,” Mac shot back. “He’s got third degree burns over large sections of his cheek and forehead now. I thought that was all that was missing from the on-air talent.”

“Mac...”

“I thanked him. He brushed it off,” Mac summarized. “We started the meeting. It wasn’t anything.”

“If you say so,” Sloan muttered.

“I do,” Mac said firmly. “Now, if you’ve gotten your fill of gossip...”

“Wait!” Sloan said suddenly, something obviously just occurring to her. “Why _were_ you running late?” 

Mac groaned, realizing she’d walked right into the question. “Sloan...”

“Delayed by something, or _someone_ this morning?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow.

Mac barely stifled her laugh, feeling vindicated in her earlier worry given that she’d predicted her friend’s _exact_ reaction, even if it’d come later than she’d expected it to. “No,” she admitted. “Just slept through my alarm. Trouble waking up this morning. And no, it wasn’t because someone kept me up half the night.”

“Good,” Sloan said with a nod.

Mac paused. _That_ wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting. _“Good?_ ”

Sloan shrugged unapologetically. “Well, it would lend a whole little air of tragedy to Will’s unexpected gesture.”

Mac ignored that answer. “So, I have actual work that I should be doing...”

“Me too,” Sloan assured her, standing up. “And I can’t have the extra few minutes?”

“Not without a reason,” Mac said firmly.

“The general public’s lack of understanding of even basic economic concepts should be reason enough,” Sloan grumbled.

“It’s not,” Mac told her. “I don’t have enough time in a broadcast as it is some days.”

Sloan shook her head, obviously despairing over the state of economic knowledge in the country. She paused when she got to the doorway. “Hey Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“He still remember how you take your coffee?” she asked with a smirk.

Mac switched her attention determinedly back to her pad of paper. “Get out.”

Sloan laughed. “Thought so.”

Mac mentally railed against interfering economists for a good five minutes. Like she didn’t have enough problems overanalyzing every little thing herself, without other people inserting their meddling two cents into the mix and making it worse.

What was the big deal really? So Will had bought her a cup of coffee. So he’d done a nice thing for her. So what if Mac could count the number of unprovoked nice things he’d done for her in the past few years on one hand. It still wasn’t a big deal. Not a big deal at all. It’d probably been a spur of the moment thing. Nothing to it.

Hell, maybe the coffee shop was having a two for one promotion.

It wasn’t like it was a sign that Will was (however slowly) emerging from his protective shell just a little bit more. Not a sign that he was engaging with humanity again (or maybe even specifically with her). She absolutely hadn’t been wondering if there’d been other similar signs lately.

And she didn’t want to do a nice thing for him now, in return.

Sloan ducked her head back into Mac’s office, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey, you still planning on going to the bar after the show tonight?” she asked.

Mac looked up. “Yeah. Assuming there isn’t some sort of national news crisis that we need to respond to between now and then.”

Sloan nodded. “Of course.”

“Anyway,” Mac added. “It’s practically tradition.”

“For some people,” Sloan agreed. “I’ll see you there.”

Mac nodded absently. And people in the news wondered why they had a reputation for drinking and smoking (okay, most of them didn’t actually wonder). After all, the Newsnight crew could be found in a cheap dive bar most nights after work.

Even Will went sometimes, and he was notoriously antisocial.

Mac supposed Will thought drinking with his staff interfered with his hard-won reputation as a curmudgeonly anchor. Not that anyone who really knew him actually thought that.

She wondered if he was planning on going to the bar tonight. He should. 

Will sometimes played the stand-offish boss, but Mac knew that was more out of insecurity than anything. After all, if he was a complete jerk to people, then it wouldn’t hurt if they didn’t like him. Anyway, he’d turned that around in recent years. The newsroom staff was fiercely loyal now. Mac smiled to herself just thinking about it.

That day at Northwestern had provoked a minor miracle in Will.

To be sure, she didn’t always go to the bar herself. Not every night. Sometimes she had other things to do. Sometimes she was too tired. Sometimes she just wasn’t in the mood. But she was going tonight. She’d promised Sloan she’d meet her there for drinks. 

And anyway, she definitely went way more than Will did.

Will always went for special occasions, special broadcasts, election coverage and that sort of thing. He wasn’t a recluse or anything, just a bit difficult. And tonight wasn’t a special occasion.

Mac suddenly very much wanted to know if Will was planning on going to the bar. For some reason that was the stray thought that her brain had decided to latch onto and not let go of.

Well, Mac had learned long ago that when her brain decided to fixate on something and pick it apart, sometimes the best idea was to cut it off at the pass and just go search out the answer for herself. Secretly she thought that was what made her such a good correspondent. She couldn’t let go until she had a satisfactory answer, until she’d exhausted all possibilities.

And she wanted an answer now.

Scooping up her notebook, Mac strolled out of her office and headed towards Will’s.

Luckily he was in it. It would have been particularly annoying if he hadn’t been.

“Hey,” she said, striding inside and leaning against his desk.

“Hey,” Will said absently, still scribbling on a pad of paper on his knee. He was obviously working on a preliminary script for the evening and Mac knew better than to interrupt. Instead she watched the expression of concentration on his face with a little smile as she waited for him to finish his thought. 

After a few moments Will looked up at her, “Do you need something?”

“Nah, just came in to stare at you while you nibbled on the cap of your pen,” Mac replied.

“I don’t chew my pens,” Will shot back. 

“Hm.”

“Do you want to examine this one for teeth marks?” Will asked.

“Not particularly,” Mac admitted. “How’s the script coming?”

Will’s eyes narrowed briefly. He obviously didn’t believe her visit was casual. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to polish it later, when we’ve nailed down the specifics of our top stories a little more.”

Mac nodded. “I was thinking we might want to move the story about Congressman Tate’s education initiative back to the C block. It’s news, but it’s not really going to grab people.”

Will considered her suggestion. “And what, move up the story on new regulations for genetically modified crops?”

“Yeah,” Mac confirmed. “Or the Governor of Michigan’s latest initiative to reduce underage drinking.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily. “We can decide at the next rundown meeting, depending on if there’s new information.”

Mac nodded. “Speaking of drinking...”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“You going to Hang Chew’s tonight?” she asked casually.

Will shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she replied in a slight white lie. “I just think it’s nice, spending a little bit of time with the staff. Encouragement, bonding, that sort of thing.”

“I bond with the staff!” Will argued, leaning back in his chair. “And obviously I mean that in a non-creepy way.”

Mac smirked. “I know how you meant it.”

But Will was getting defensive. “So?”

“ _So,_ you haven’t been coming to the bar as much lately,” Mac prompted gently.

“I’ve been busy,” Will grumbled.

Fair enough,” Mac said, trying hard not to imagine exactly what, or who, might be keeping Will busy in the evenings.

“Maybe I’ve been trying to cut back on my alcohol consumption,” Will suggested.

Mc bit her lip. Hard. 

She hoped he wasn’t having health problems. She hadn’t even thought of _that._ Oh God. What if he was having stomach issues? What if he was taking medication again, and it interacted with alcohol? What if... Then she remembered that he’d started the sentence with the word ‘maybe’. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you?”

“No,” he admitted.

 _“Will!”_ Mac snapped, her voice angrier than she’d meant it to be. He’d frightened her; she couldn’t help remembering the last time he’d been having health problems, and she’d walked into his bathroom to find... Shaking her head slightly to clear it, Mac summoned up a glare. She’d actually been getting concerned about him.

The bastard had the nerve to look amused. _“Mackenzie."_

“I was just asking,” Mac defended. “God damn it, Will.” She mentally cursed herself when she heard the waver in her voice on his name.

Will was watching her suspiciously (at least Mac thought it was suspicion). “Were you?”

She nodded slowly, taking care to look a little sad. “I just think it’s nice, getting together with colleagues after work, discussing the show. I mean, obviously not every night, but... Sloan and I are going tonight. I was just asking. I guess I... I like it when everyone’s together, the whole team.”

She heard his sigh, even if he tried to suppress it. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I was thinking that I probably would drop by tonight.”

Mac smiled a little. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you,” she said after a moment, not feeling guilty in the least. After all, he’d just frightened the crap out of her.

“Course not,” Will muttered.

Mac just kept on smiling.

Suddenly, he glanced down and to the side. “I’m... I’m sorry if I frightened you, before.”

Mac bit her lip, forgiveness blooming in her chest in an instant. “It’s okay.”

Will still didn’t look at her. “Is it?”

She considered that. She’d forgive him, but that didn’t mean she’d appreciated his teasing. Not this time at least. “Maybe not. Maybe...”

“Maybe that’s not a thing to joke about?” he asked, turning towards her finally.

She nodded. She’d never forget the feeling of panic and despair when she’d seen him lying, motionless on his bathroom floor that day. When she’d thought that maybe nothing would ever be fixable, not even the show.

“I’m sorry Mackenzie” Will said again.

And Mac could tell he meant it. He really meant it. And that meant something to her. “I forgive you,” she said with an easy smile, not missing the way his eyes darkened and his breath caught subtly in his throat. After all, they both knew that forgiveness wasn’t always so easy.

Will held her eyes for a moment. “Was there anything else you needed?” he finally asked.

“No, not really,” she admitted; she’d just wanted to see if he was going to come to the bar (and maybe also spend a little time with him). Nothing specific other than that. And she already had a list of things to do with her day. She frowned, “And I really should talk to Herb. I swear something’s wrong with my headset.”

“You’re not getting a brain tumour, Mackenzie,” Will assured her dryly.

She looked up in surprise.

Her surprise only grew when he almost smiled. Almost. “See you at the rundown meeting.”

For some reason, Mac found herself smiling again. She wasn’t going to even try and figure out how he’d known. He was just _Will._ “Yeah,” she said before spinning out of his office in search of answers.

She was wide awake now, and she had things to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac leaned back in her chair, letting the buzz of the bar settle into her bones.

Today was a good day. The bar was good. The company was good. It all just felt good. 

Right. 

The feeling was rare enough that she let herself appreciate it.

She often did the right thing, or at least she tried to. But there was a disconnect a lot of the time, between trying and actually succeeding. Today that disconnect was gone.

Smiling and taking a sip of her drink, Mac turned her attention back to the woman sitting across from her. She’d gone uncharacteristically quiet.

Sloan Sabbith, award-winning economist and broadcaster, was completely distracted. By her drink. In fact, Sloan was currently examining her half-empty glass with a seriousness usually only reserved for the extremely tipsy. 

“It hasn’t changed in the last twenty minutes since you ordered it,” Mac assured her companion.

“It’s blue,” Sloane replied. “Bright blue.”

“You did order the blueberry surprise,” Mac reminded her.

“This is not the colour of any blueberry I’ve ever seen in nature,” Sloane grumbled.

“Have you ever actually seen a blueberry in nature?” Mac wondered idly.

“Does a farmer’s market count?” Sloan asked.

Mackenzie laughed. “No.”

“Then no,” Sloane admitted. “Have you?”

“Sure,” Mackenzie replied. “At my grandparent’s country house.”

Sloan raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment for which Mackenzie was grateful. She knew her upbringing hadn’t exactly been run of the mill, but damn it, she was sick of feeling like she should feel vaguely self-conscious about it.

“And at your grandparent’s, were the blueberries this colour?” Sloan asked after a second.

“No,” Mackenzie admitted. “They were blueberry coloured. That’s the colour of... of...”

“Of those low-energy Christmas lights,” Sloane suggested suddenly.

“Yes!” Mackenzie said excitedly. “That’s exactly the colour! I’ve been trying to figure what it reminded me of for a while now.”

“Me too,” Sloan admitted. “It just came to me.”

“I noticed you were watching your glass pretty carefully,” Mac agreed. Carefully was an understatement. Mac hadn’t seen that level of focus on a person’s face in quite some time.

“Why did this bar decide it needed new drinks again?” Sloan asked. “And why did we decide that meant that we should order them?”

“I guess the bar trying to branch out,” Mackenzie suggested. “Trying to make sure they didn’t get boring. And we ordered them because they’re cheaper because they’re new, and we got here after nine.”

“We make good livings,” Sloan groused. “We can afford regular priced drinks. Better drinks.”

“We can,” Mac agreed. But she didn’t see why that meant that they couldn’t at least _try_ the cheap ones.

Sloan obviously disagreed. She glanced around the bar, searching for another solution. “Or I bet we could even get someone to buy our drinks for us, if we wanted to. There must be a gullible man around here somewhere and I look hot.”

“Hey!” Mac objected. Sure, Sloan was beautiful, and the one who seemed to care the most about the drink situation, but that didn’t mean Mac wanted it implied that she couldn’t find a man to buy her a drink (if she’d wanted to, of course).

Sloan glanced back quickly, all apologies. “You look hot too, but I’m the one who wants a new drink.”

Mac shrugged, deciding to accept the implicit apology. “You do look hot, but a guy buying you a drink comes with complications. You really want to deal with that now?”

Sloan stopped looking around the bar, slouching back in her chair. “No. Not that there’s anyone in here worth getting a drink from.”

Mac smirked. “You sure about that?” she asked, glancing towards Don.

“Don’t even go there, Kenzie,” Sloan warned.

“Who’s going anywhere?” Mac asked, doing her best to look innocent.

“It’s easy for you to gloat; at least your drink is a normal colour,” Sloan grumbled.

Mac glanced down at the pink concoction in front of her. “I wouldn’t exactly say this is a colour you find in nature either.”

“But at least it’s not electric blue,” Sloan pointed out. “Yours is sort of close to normal. It’s pink.”

“It’s the colour of a watermelon Jolly Rancher,” Mac countered. Unlike Sloan’s fluorescent concoction, Mac had identified what the colour of her own drink reminded her of almost immediately.

Sloan smiled. “Why are we drinking these again?”

Mac didn’t feel like rehashing the reasons and then hearing Sloan start a tirade about how she could buy her own damn drinks for full price (or maybe get someone to buy one for her). “Everyone else is?” Mac offered instead.

“Ah,” Sloan nodded. “We caved to peer pressure.”

“Sure,” Mac agreed, deciding that was as good an explanation as any. “Do you not like yours?”

Sloan shrugged. “It’s alright. I guess it’s not terrible, but it’s not great either. It’s trying too hard. Makes me wish I’d just ordered a rum and coke or something. Maybe scotch.”

“Mine’s not bad,” Mac told her. “But you’re right, I don’t love it either. I don’t think I’ll want another one.”

Sloan smiled. “Does that mean we’re leaving after these, or just buying better drinks?”

Mac considered that. “I don’t think I feel like leaving just yet, but if you want to head home, I’m sure I can find someone else to keep me company.”

“In a room full of your own staff?” Sloan asked. “Yeah, I think you’ll be able to find someone else to talk to. But I’m definitely going to need something to rid my mouth of the taste of this abomination to alcohol.”

“Oh, it can’t be _that_ bad,” Mac admonished.

“Here, try it,” Sloan said, handing the glass over.

“Okay,” Mac agreed, handing Sloan her own glass. “You try mine.” 

She took a sip of Sloane’s bright blue beverage. At first it tasted a bit like a blue freezie, then she was hit by an aftertaste of a mixture of sugar and what tasted like rum. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly good either. She handed Sloan her drink back. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want too many of those.”

“Or even two,” Sloan replied. “You’re right. Yours is better. Not amazing, but it’s at least drinkable.”

“So when Hank asks for feedback on the new drinks?” Mac asked with a half a laugh.

“I’ll tell him that the watermelon whiskey isn’t too bad, but the blueberry surprise needs some serious work,” Sloan said bluntly.

“At the very least,” Mac agreed. “Maybe while you’re at it, you should also mention him that sometimes simple is best.”

“Maybe I will,” Sloan replied. “Then I’ll order a scotch.”

“What’s this I hear about ordering scotch?” Will asked, walking up behind her. “That’s my kind of woman.”

“Yeah, well,” Sloan said, gesturing towards her now almost empty glass.

Will raised his eyebrows. “What the hell are you drinking?”

“Blueberry surprise,” Sloan said dryly.

“Watermelon whisky,” Mac said cheerfully.

Will tried to hide his laugh. A bit of it sneaked out. “Why?”

“Who knows,” Sloan grumbled.

“Trying something new,” Mac said loudly, overriding her friend. “It was an adventure.”

“Not a particularly successful one, from the sounds of it,” Will observed.

Mac shrugged, unperturbed. “Not particularly, though mine wasn’t that bad. The new bartender might have reached a bit too far with Sloan’s.”

“I’d say I wanted to try the thing now. But I really don’t,” Will said, holding up an almost empty glass of scotch. “I saw the list of new offerings and went with an old standby.”

“Wise man,” Sloan replied.

“You’re not the first to notice,” Will told her.

Mac rolled her eyes. Wise and modest, from the sounds of it. “One person’s wise is another man’s unadventurous.”

Will’s eyes swung to hers. “Or maybe, having found what I like, I don’t feel the need to change it.” He paused before continuing, “Especially not for something being marketed at teenagers.”

“No one markets alcohol to teenagers,” Mac replied, trying to keep her tone light. “They can’t legally buy it.”

Will’s eyes turned warm. “Come on, let me get you ladies better drinks. Sloan, you wanted scotch. Mac, martini?”

Mac watched him for a moment, momentarily surprised by the offer, and its casualness. After all, Will didn’t usually buy her drinks. Not even coffee (though he’d done that today too). 

But she was talking about alcohol specifically right now. Will didn’t usually by her drinks at the bar.

Not that he usually came to the bar, but even when he did... Which isn’t to say that he hadn’t _ever_ bought her a drink. He had. And more than once. It wasn’t necessarily common, but it happened. He usually made a bigger production of it though. It usually involved eye-rolls, and sighing, and an overall air of defeat. It wasn’t just a friendly offer, like today’s had been. It usually wasn’t this _natural._ It wasn’t...

Mac abruptly cut off her line of thinking. It was the only thing to do when she got like this. Her brain would just go off in a billion directions, none of them particularly helpful. She forced her attention back to the conversation in front of her, sent Will a smile and hoped he hadn’t noticed the brief pause. “Oh, if you two are having scotch, I might have that too.”

His eyes twinkled at her (Mac suspected he _had_ noticed the pause, but decided he probably wouldn’t mention it). “You don’t have to get scotch just because we are. I know you’d rather have a gin martini.”

“I like scotch,” Mac said stubbornly; she wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so determined. Maybe she just wanted to surprise him.

“I know you do,” he said patiently.

Suddenly she grinned. “Maybe I’m not done being adventurous.”

Will shook his head indulgently. “Alright, three glasses of scotch it is.”

He turned to leave when Mac suddenly thought the better of her little game. She’d already had one drink tonight that hadn’t turned out to be quite what she wanted. She leaned forward quickly, on the edge of her chair. “Hey Will!”

He spun back around. “I know, I know. I’ll get you extra olives.”

Her smile lit up her face. She couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed at him for seeing right through her (or at herself, for being so predictable). “Thank you!”

She settled back in her seat, still smiling. She wished things could always be like this between them. Light and easy, and god damn it, _fun_. She missed a lot of things about Will, and that was one of them, the sense of fun he very rarely let come out to play.

Sloan’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “Okay, what was that?”

“What was what?”Mac asked innocently. Sure the exchange had been a little more playful than usual, but it hadn’t been _that_ noteworthy. Had it?

Sloan seemed to think so. For a moment she simply stared. “That!” she said eventually, waving a hand between Will at the bar and the two of them at the table.

Mac frowned. “Will offering to buy us drinks?” Sure, it wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, but Mac always hated when other people were so shocked by Will doing a nice thing.

Sloan practically growled at her. “Yes! No... Yes and no.”

Mac smirked. “Thank you for making everything perfectly clear.”

That earned her the familiar Sloan glare of unimpressed. “ _Kenzie._ ”

“ _Sloan._ ”

Mac’s verbal warning went unheeded; Sloan decided to spell things out for her. “Look, you know I think that Will’s great, I do. But he’s not exactly Mr. Social.”

“He’s social!” Mac insisted. Sure, sometimes Will was a little bit stand-offish (and sometimes Mac herself was the one to yell at him for it), but he wasn’t a recluse.

Sloan ignored Mac’s objection. “And he doesn’t usually walk up to tables and offer to buy the next round, all charming and friendly.”

Mac interrupted again, the frequent urge to defend Will against all attacks (no matter how minor) resurfacing and making her voice just a little too loud. “Will can be charming!”

Sloan paused, holding Mackenzie’s gaze for a moment. When she finally did reply, Sloan’s voice was quieter. “I guess you have more experience with that than I do.”

Mac’s heart sank, but she held her ground, her gaze never faltering. “I guess I do.”

Sloan had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable, but Mackenzie would give the woman this, she was determined. “And that’s what I mean, I guess. You don’t think that Will’s been, I don’t know, nicer lately?”

Mackenzie shook her head, “No.” The denial was immediate. It had to be. Without a very sure sign, she wasn’t going down that road.

Sloan’s eyebrows rose so high, Mackenzie briefly wondered if they’d disappear into her hairline. “He bought you coffee today!”

“I know,” Mac said softly. She’d already spent more time than she should have thinking about it.

“When was the last time he did that?” Sloan asked, obviously nowhere near done her interrogation.

“How would I know? It’s not like I keep track.” Mackenzie did keep track. She tried not to, but she couldn’t help it. The last time had been a couple of months ago; they’d coincidentally crossed paths at the coffee shop on a particularly cold morning, and she’d had her hands full so Will offered to get her coffee and carry it up for her in the interests of saving all of the electrical equipment in the newsroom from an untimely death, his words. She’d been equal parts relieved, annoyed and then mollified, when she realized he’d gotten her an extra shot of hazelnut.

Sloan’s voice drew her back into the conversation at hand. “Is it possible the answer is over five years ago?”

Mac didn’t want to answer that, because then she’d have to explain when the last time had _actually_ been. “Sloan...” she said, dropping her head onto her arms on the table. She was suddenly too tired for this. She didn’t want to analyze this. She just wanted to enjoy a friendly Will. The good feeling from earlier was all but gone.

Sloan was oblivious. “And now he’s being all flirty...”

Mackenzie’s head snapped up. Will was _not_ flirting with her. He couldn’t be. He just... “Oh, he is not!”

“I think he is,” Sloan replied, and Mac was irritated to realize that the other woman looked vaguely smug.

“He isn’t,” Mac insisted. She couldn’t deal with that kind of hope right now. “He’s buying us drinks. And while we can certainly afford to buy our own, Will can afford to buy them even more.”

“Well, that’s true,” Sloan agreed.

“Thank you.”

Sloan frowned slightly. “You really think he wasn’t flirting with you?”

“Yes!” Mac insisted again. Will had made it perfectly clear where he stood when it came to renewing their romantic relationship time and time again. Mac could respect that, but she couldn’t keep opening up her heart each time he was even remotely kind, only to be crushed each and every time.

Sloan obviously had no such issues. “I don’t know, he looked pretty happy to see you.”

Mac tried to lighten the tone of the conversation. “I would imagine this isn’t his first scotch of the night.”

Sloan laughed softly. “Even so...”

Mac’s frustrations started bubbling up from just under the surface. “Oh for the love of...”

“Are you really sure he’s not flirting?” Sloan pressed.

“Yes! I’m sure!” Mac insisted, her frustration making her a little short. Did Sloan not understand how hard this was for her? “And of the two of us, I think we both know who’s better at knowing this sort of thing.”

Sloan wasn’t offended. “That may be true, but even I can tell that something’s different.”

“Nothing’s different,” Mac said quickly.

Sloan leaned back in her chair. Mac resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. Just.

“Is that true,” Sloan asked slowly. “Or is that just a thing that you tell yourself, because it helps you get through the day?”

Mac closed her eyes. “Look, Sloan, Will and I are in a good place... We’re...” She swallowed.

“Okay,” Sloan said gently.

Mac opened her eyes, surprised by the obvious understanding in her friend’s tone. She saw Sloan’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “Okay?”

To Mac’s surprise, Sloan smirked. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Mac smiled back. “Well, for one, I’ve never seen you drop anything so quickly in your life.”

Sloan shrugged. “I can keep prodding you if you like, but Will’s going to be back any minute. And besides, it’s obvious that this is a bit of a thing, and you’re just not ready to admit it.”

Mac froze. That wasn’t it at all. It... She forced herself to react. “ _Sloan!”_

Irritatingly, Sloan smirked at her. “Oh relax Kenz,” she said, before turning towards Will who was indeed on his way back and smiling. “And look on the bright side, I told you we could probably find a man to buy us drinks.”

Mac was laughing again when he set her martini down in front of her.

In spite of her somewhat crazy friend, maybe tonight was still a good night.

“You ladies look like you’re having a good time,” Will observed. 

“We are,” Mac confirmed, smiling up at him (after all, there was nothing wrong with just being friendly). “That’s what people do at bars, Billy.”

Will smiled back at her, before turning to Sloan. “Mac is trying to convince me to go out more.”

Sloan laughed. “Is she?”

“Oh please! I did no such thing,” Mac said, waving her hand in the air. Sloan’s occasional interrogations about her relationship with Will made her occasionally uncomfortable, but she could more than deal with Will himself. “I simply asked Will if he was coming to the bar tonight.”

“With no ulterior motives at all,” Will muttered.

Mac glared at him, but didn’t back down. “ _At most,_ I pointed out to Will that it wouldn’t be the worst idea if he occasionally spent a bit of time with his staff. We’re a team in the newsroom, and I think he should be part of it. Is that so wrong?”

Sloan opened her mouth to reply when Will beat her to it.

“And I’m not part of the team if I don’t come to the bar?” he asked.

Mac continued to glare. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, you implied.”

Now Mac felt like smacking him. “I did not.”

But Will was stubborn. “Sloan, what do you think? Do you think Mackenzie is implying that I’m not a team player?”

Sloan hesitated. “Well...”

Will’s voice rose in pitch and volume. “I’m the managing editor of NewsNight!”

“Oh, is that your job title? I was unaware.” Mac asked, mildly irritated with him for initiating this line of conversation. She was only looking out for his best interests, trying to _help_. He should know that by now. 

Will lifted his scotch to hide his grin behind it. 

Mackenzie was almost too distracted to notice him anyways. Almost. Instead, she decided to ignore the smug expression he thought he was concealing from her in favour of explaining to him the many ways in which he was being an idiot. “And what is it you do on the show again? Sometimes the news is so complicated I have trouble keeping all of those pesky facts straight...”

Will set his glass down, looking more serious. “Mackenzie...”

But Mac wasn’t done. She fluttered her hands a little for effect. “Silly little me. Going into your office and asking you a simple question about your plans after work. Tell me Sloan, do you think that’s unreasonable?”

“Obviously no one is saying that’s unreasonable,” Will replied quickly. “And even more obviously, I never said that. Right Sloan?”

Sloan tilted her head to the side, considering the questions.

“So what are you saying then, Billy?” Mac asked, not giving the other woman time to sort out her thoughts. Yelling at Will when he was like this was far more important.

Will leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m saying that you obviously had some sort of ulterior motive.”

“And what would that be?” Mac asked, mirroring his position and pushing herself forward.

“How would I know?” Will asked. “That’s why it’s called an ulterior motive.”

“Tell me Sloan, are you familiar with the symptoms of paranoia?” Mac asked, leaning back slightly as she turned to her friend.

“Tell me Sloan,” Will mocked. “Are you familiar with the symptoms of insanity?”

Mac rounded on him, again giving up the pretense of talking to Sloan. “What could _possibly_ be my ulterior motive here, Will?” she asked. “You’re a smart guy! At least you’re supposed to be. So tell me.”

“I don’t know, Neal or Jim had something they wanted to talk to me about but were nervous about doing it in the office so you thought maybe it would be easier in an informal setting and after large amounts of alcohol?” Will muttered.

Mac smiled in spite of herself. Try as he might, Will couldn’t quite hide the fact that he was very sweet.

He didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanour. Or maybe it was his turn not to care, because he was too into his own argument. “Because I’ve got to tell you Mac, it’s going to take a lot more scotch before a pitch about, I don’t know, the probability of alien invasion sounds like a good idea to me.”

Mac cut him off. “Just out of curiosity, in your little scenario am I a person who has vetted Neal’s alien invasion story idea and thought it was brilliant and an excellent use of our air time, before sending him to you?”

Will paused.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Mac said scathingly.

“Okay, maybe that was a bad example,” Will admitted. “But my point still stands.”

Mac rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t ask if you were coming because I wanted you to, I don’t know, _dispense wisdom_ to the staff. Why would I do that? Half the time I don’t even agree with your wisdom.”

Will smiled slightly, forced to concede that point. “Yes, you generally do make your disagreement perfectly clear.”

“Someone needs to,” Mac grumbled, raising her glass.

“Well if I’m not here for the staff,” Will said slowly, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at her. “Then I must be here for...”

 _“You’re not here for any specific reason!”_ Mackenzie said quickly. “Unless you have one of your own. Sloan, would you tell Will that I didn’t have some scheme in mind when I asked him if he was coming to the bar tonight?”

Sloan didn’t even bother trying to reply this time.

But Will was watching her a little too closely for Mackenzie’s liking now. She steeled her spine and refused to squirm. He wouldn’t intimidate her into submission.

“I’m sure Sloan will understand my reluctance to believe you,” he said after a moment. “You so often have a scheme of some kind.”

“Good for you I do,” Mac retorted. “Or you’d still be living in a fog.”

“Yeah, a fog of people liking me,” Will grumbled.

“People like you!” Mac argued, waving a hand around the bar. “Just look around you.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m surrounded by the staff of my own Newsroom. _Of course_ they...”

He paused.

Mac was fairly certain she’d been caught, but refused to concede. If he thought she’d engineered the whole thing, he might try to insist it was further proof that his staff’s respect and affection had nothing to do with him personally. 

And anyway, she didn’t want to be thanked.

She raised her chin a fraction of an inch and looked at him almost defiantly.

Will looked like he didn’t know what to say. He sighed. “Look Mac, it’s not that I don’t...”

“Don’t what?” Mac snapped, hoping to forestall the awkwardness.

To her shock, Will softened. “I know you worry sometimes.”

Mac refused to give an inch. She couldn’t. He’d look at her with those eyes of his, and underneath it all, she’d just be a big pool of mush, wanting to fall into his arms. It was ridiculous! She was a grown woman. A strong, independent, successful woman. (And anyway, falling into Will’s arms wasn’t exactly an option anymore. She had to stop thinking about it.) “I’m your producer. That’s my job.”

“That’s your job between eight and nine.” Will reminded her, but still gently.

Mac shook her head violently. Her job had never been limited to between eight and nine. That’s just what she’d first told him to ease him into what she’d always intended to be the new order of things. “No! I need to make sure you’re ready to go on air. That _is_ part of my job. It is my job to make sure that you look your best on air, to manage the Newsroom, to make sure that the show runs smoothly.”

Exasperated, Will turned to the other woman at the table. “Sloan, would you tell Mackenzie that I am a grown man, and as such, am more than capable of arranging my own social calendar.”

“Who said anything about running your social calendar?” Mac asked. “I was talking about spending a small amount of time with your staff. And anyway, we all know how good you are at navigating the social scene thanks to page six.”

Will actually looked almost hurt. “Last I checked I haven’t shown up on page six in almost two years.”

“Only because TMI shut down,” Mac muttered.

Will’s expression tightened briefly and he glanced away and took a sip of his scotch. And Mac couldn’t help wondering (yet again) if maybe he really hadn’t been dating anyone lately, if... She ruthlessly cut off that line of thinking. “Anyway, maybe I was thinking that it might be nice if we got together as a team at the bar after the show. What is so wrong with that? I’m sure that Sloan would...”

But Sloan was busy draining her scotch glass. “Nope!” she said, setting it down on the table with a thud as she stood up. “I’m done with this. It stopped being fun about five minutes ago. Longer actually. You two are idiots, you know that right? I cannot believe that I work in a place where I’m the most relationship aware person in the room sometimes. Can’t either of you ever just relax and enjoy yourselves? God, I need another drink. Which I am going to buy for myself!”

Will and Mac watched her stalk over to the bar.

“How would she know if I was enjoying myself or not?” Will asked softly, still looking away.

Mackenzie started. She tightened her hands around her glass, trying to keep the surge of pleasure to a manageable level. “This is why you should let people get to know you a little better,” she said softly, making her sure to keep her smile wide and playful. She stood up and placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling wider when he looked up at her. “I’ll get another couple of drinks,” she said.

Will moved to object but she shook her head. “You’ve bought me two drinks today, Billy. I can get this round. Then I’ll come back and we can argue some more.”

“With my luck, Sampat will sit down in Sloan’s chair while you’re gone and when you get back he’ll actually be pitching me the alien invasion story,” Will grumbled.

“The alien invasion story doesn’t exist, Will,” Mac reminded him.

“You sure about that?” Will asked.

She patted his shoulder, knowing most of his annoyance was for show. “Well, if that’s the case then I’ll come back and rescue you.”

“Ha!” Will scoffed . “You’re more likely to sit back and enjoy my pain. I _know_ you. You’ll sit back and pretend to look interested. If you’re not actively egging them on.”

Mac shrugged. “Sloan did say that we should learn to just sit back and enjoy ourselves.”

She sauntered over the bar. She didn’t need to look back to know that he was smiling.

Despite what Sloan thought, tonight was definitely a good night.

As she waited for their drinks, Mac glanced over at Will, only to see that he’d been right. He had been joined by both Jim and Neal, and in spite of his complaints, he didn’t seem too annoyed by that fact. On the contrary, Will seemed to be genuinely enjoying the company of his colleagues. Of course he was. Much as he grumbled, Mac knew that Will genuinely liked the staff. Okay, some more than others. But she’d gone searching for him at work and found him chatting with Neal and/or Jim on more than once occasion.

She watched them from the bar as she waited for their drinks, her little newsroom family. Her smile widened as she watched Maggie pull up a chair and join the debate. It was good to see her back in the centre of things. There’d been a while when she’d been dropping by the bar even less frequently than Will. 

Mac watched the number of people at their table begin to grow. Will just drew people to him. It hurt her a little bit, that he could never seem to see that.

She bit her lip. That little crowd around him was nice to see; Will was usually so lonely.

She knew there was never going to be anything she could do that would make up for... for ripping his heart to shreds. She knew that was never going to be fixable. That there was always going to be a wound there, but sometimes she wished...

Then she got something of an idea. It wouldn’t make up for everything, but maybe it would be something.

Mackenzie worked hard to contain her grin.

Just because she couldn’t have everything she wanted, didn’t mean she couldn’t make things just a little better.

She had a plan.

Will would call it a scheme, but that was okay. She had no intention of telling him about it.

She grabbed their drinks and made her way back to their table. 

She couldn’t help noticing he’d saved her chair for her.


	4. Chapter 4

Mac considered her plan on the cab ride home from the bar.

The more she considered it, the more she liked it. And the less sure she was that plan was the right word for it.

Honestly.

After all, it wasn’t much of a plan. Just an idea. An intent, really. Barely anything. Certainly not enough to cause someone to accuse her of meddling, or trying to ruin other people’s lives, or, or anything.

She doubted anyone would even notice.

She was sneaky like that.

She was sneaky, and she _was_ worried about Will. And he knew it. He knew it, and she knew it, and Sloan knew it...

Really, everyone probably knew it.

She was worried. She couldn’t help it.

Or, maybe not worried. Not exactly. Will was a grown man. He could take care of himself (most of the time). She was sure he was (generally) fine. 

But she didn’t want him to be _fine._

She wanted better than that for him. And wanting people to be happier could never be a bad thing. Mac was sure about that.

Because while Will was _fine_ , she knew he could also get lonely. Everyone got lonely sometimes, but it was something Will struggled with in particular. And it was something he worried about, though he’d just about die before he ever admitted it.

For some reason, he didn’t think he was good with people.

And okay, yeah, sometimes Will could be an absolute _ass._ Mac would be the first to admit that. She had extensive experience with that side of him. He wasn’t easy. He could be pissy and obnoxious and stubborn and petty and if she started listing all his bad qualities it might take all day. In the end, they didn’t matter anyway. Because underneath all the crap, Will was a good man, and one who Mac sometimes thought had more integrity in his little finger than most people did in their entire body.

He often said the wrong thing, and he wasn’t great in social situations when he couldn’t hide behind his public image, particularly when people were trying to convince him of things he considered unimportant (like the time he’d told her cousin Constance that her bridesmaid’s dresses made the women in them look like tulle tangerines with heads, _while at the wedding reception_ ). But one on one, with the important stuff, when it _mattered_ , Will was amazing (like the time he’d sat with her for fourteen hours straight the night her father had a heart attack. She’d tried to order him to sleep; he hadn’t even argued, just fetched more tea and sat back down beside her, prepared to wait as long as he had to). He just needed to be reminded of that side of himself. This would be his reminder. His newsroom. Now that he’d started trying again, they were firmly behind him. And Will needed to see that. 

Mac knew that she’d been the catalyst for that in many ways. She was continuing what she’d started.

Sometimes Will just needed a little push.

Well, now she was going to give him another one.

That was her plan. Except that this time she wasn’t going to push _him_.

She was going to push him _and_ their staff.

Will was lonely? Well, she was going to make sure he knew he had people.

It wouldn’t even be all that hard. When Will bothered to engage, people gravitated towards him. That had been obvious at the bar tonight. Will at the centre of the group’s conversation, acting as moderator and judge, leader and mentor and friend. All that Mac would have to do was orchestrate more situations like that.

Opportunities for Will to bond with his newsroom.

She knew she’d almost certainly irrevocably fucked up whatever life the two of them might have had together. She’d betrayed him in such a way that left him lonelier than he’d ever been (something that Mac knew she might never forgive herself for). She’d hurt him in ways almost unimaginable, and in ways that could never be fixed. And she’d never be able to undo any of it, though god knows she wished she could.

She could only move forward, and try and make amends in whatever ways were left open to her. She _could_ help him make the best goddamn news show on the air. She _could_ help him reach his potential. She _could_ make him see that he had people. She _could_ help him build a community of his own.

Mostly, she wanted to thank him, for taking a chance on her when she came back. For having the courage to do their show day after day, in spite of absolutely everything.

She wanted to give him something, to help create something with him.

And she wasn’t just talking about the show.

Even after Genoa, she still wanted both of them to retake the fourth estate, even if only on a small scale.

She wanted this community of dedicated people. They’d weathered so much together. This would be better for all of them, not just Will.

But she wanted Will at the centre. In every way.

And that would kill so many birds with one stone, Mac had lost count.

All she had to do was create ways to let it happen. Reasons for them all to be together outside of work. Things like tonight. The beauty of the plan was that it really was that simple (it had to be; Mac knew that if it was complicated, Will would pick up on it almost immediately). All she needed was a series of events to bring people together.

And maybe then Will would stop worrying so much about people liking him, because it would be obvious that a lot of people already did.

Quite pleased with herself, Mac pulled out her Blackberry and started to type out a list.

* * *

Mac waited until after the morning rundown to implement her plan. She had high hopes for her little scheme; it was a gorgeous day. Mackenzie took that as a sign that even the weather was behind her.

“Anyone know what the weather’s supposed to be like next week?” she asked at the end of the meeting as people were gathering up their stuff.

Jim shrugged. “I dunno, spring-like?” he suggested.

Mac stared at him, unimpressed. She turned to address the rest of the room. “Seriously, this place is practically all glass. Does no one actually look outside?”

“Technically most of the glass faces inside the building,” Don pointed out.

Mac decided to ignore him.

Luckily for her, Neal jumped in. “Temperatures next week are supposed to be mild, well above seasonable. They’re calling for rain early in the week, but the weather’s supposed to clear as the week passes. Thursday and Friday should be nice. Of course, taking into account the typical accuracy of the long range weather forecast...”

Will was staring at Neal incredulously. “Seriously, how do you have that information at your fingertips? Do you just spend your time monitoring meteorological websites?”

Neal shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”

“For next week’s weather?” Will asked.

“Which will probably change a million times between now and then,” Jim added.

“Guess someone won’t be sharing my umbrella,” Neal muttered under his breath.

“Anyway!” Mac interjected, before things could continue too far. “So you’re saying next week’s supposed to be nice?”

“Yes,” Neal confirmed. “Just not Monday, and maybe Tuesday.”

“Or Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday,” Jim added sarcastically. “If we take precedence into account when it comes to long-term weather forecasts.”

“Why?” Maggie asked curiously, joining in the conversation for the first time.

“I thought we could have a picnic!” Mac said excitedly.

Her announcement was met by a group of blank stares.

Mac didn’t know why. It was a bit early for it, but it wasn’t _impossible._ The snow had melted and everything!

“A picnic,” Jim said slowly.

“Mmhm,” Mac nodded cheerfully. She figured the ground should be dry enough for it now. Probably.

“Like with baskets and checkered tablecloths?” Don checked.

Mac paused, considering what exactly would be required. It had seemed so simple when she’d come up with the idea last night. It was irritating that everyone was being so difficult now. Maybe she should have waited for an occasion, or an excuse to start the plan, but patience had never been one of her strong suits. And anyway, she shouldn’t need a reason to suggest a little staff-bonding; her idea wasn’t _that_ far-fetched. 

Clearly she worked with a bunch of cynical killjoys.

“I just think we should spend more time together, as a group,” she told them, determined to be cheerful. “Enjoy each other’s company, that sort of thing.”

She watched as everyone turned slightly towards Will, obviously looking for guidance.

He was looking at her like she was crazy. “Mackenzie,” he said slowly. “Are you honestly about to suggest that we track down to Central Park in the middle of the workday to eat lunch? With blankets and baskets and the weather and... mud. And when was the last time anyone in this room ate outside?”

“Does a patio at a restaurant count?” Gary asked.

“No!” Will replied.

“I was in the scouts when I was nine,” Don said dryly. “That didn’t last long.”

Most of the room started chuckling.

“Okay, maybe not a picnic then,” Mac said quickly, realizing she may have reached a bit too far in her enthusiasm. She might have been influenced by the recently melting snow, the above freezing temperatures and the fact that she’d come up with the idea at three in the morning. She dialed her idea back before she completely lost control of the conversation. “But a potluck. We could have it in the newsroom one day. Everyone could contribute something, and we could all share.”

Everyone still looked sceptical, but at least they were no longer looking at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

“Why?” Don asked eventually.

“It would be totally voluntary of course,” Mac assured him quickly. “No one would have to join if they didn’t want to.”

“Not my question, but okay,” Don muttered.

“Seriously Mac,” Will said. “Why?”

“Why not?” she asked, her enthusiasm building again. “It could be fun! We spend all this time together at work, but we rarely stop for even a little while to appreciate each other’s company. What’s so wrong with having a meal together as a group? We wouldn’t even have to leave the building. No weather information necessary! We could do it here, set up tables. Have it be a buffet style. People could walk up and grab things when they were free. I just think we should do more things together is all.”

Will still looked suspicious.

Mac rode right over his scepticism, knowing that if she convinced him, she’d won. “Seriously Will, what harm could it do? You’re right, a picnic is impractical. But a potluck is easy. And not even that much work. I’ll start a list, and people can sign up for things. All we’ll need is plates and glasses, and I can take care of that too.”

“I could bring in cookies,” Maggie said tentatively.

“See! Nothing to it.” Mac said, sending the young woman a grateful smile. Not only because she appreciated the support, but she also welcomed the sign that the Maggie was slowly finding her way back to the land of the living. The last year and a half had been hard on everyone, but Maggie had been hit the hardest. It had occurred to Mac when she was planning her scheme that along with helping Will, that the staff bonding might help heal some of the hurts from the last year, for everyone. 

It wouldn’t make them disappear, but Mac figured it couldn’t hurt. She was determined to try. She rounded on Jim, intent on shoring up more support. “What’re you bringing?” she demanded in a tone that didn’t allow for a refusal.

Jim looked like a deer caught in headlights by the question. “Uh...”

“I call chips,” Don said quickly.

“Damn,” Neal muttered. 

“Great contribution there, Gordon Ramsey,” Maggie said sarcastically.

“I’ll get the good kind,” Don assured her. “Maybe even bring a selection.”

“I’ll help Don with the chips,” Jim said quickly. “We should probably have a few kinds.”

Mac frowned at them, somewhat unimpressed. “Okay, well, we have to have other things than chips.”

“Maggie’s bringing cookies,” Don reminded her.

Mac crossed her arms.

Will rolled his eyes. “Okay, show of hands,” he called out as they walked into the newsroom. “Who here cooks on even a semi-regular basis?”

A handful of people tentatively raised their hands. 

Will didn’t seem surprised by the response. “And how many people, after completing a broadcast that ends at 9pm, want to go home and cook for a potluck the next day?” 

At least half of the hands went down.

Mac felt her shoulders slump.

Will turned back towards her, obviously about to shoot her plan down. She bit her lip, preparing to concede. Apparently the plan wasn’t going to start well at all. 

Then Will met her eyes. She sent him her best attempt at a smile. And, to Mac’s surprise, he paused. Then he sighed.

“Okay, listen up!” he called out across the newsroom. “We’re going to have a potluck on...” he turned towards her, questioning.

“Next Friday,” Mac said firmly, not really sure where he was going with this, but more than willing to give in to the hope blooming in her chest.

Will nodded. “We’re going to have a potluck next Friday. Only no one is going to have to cook.”

Everyone looked understandably surprised by that proclamation (including Mac herself).

Will continued. “No one is going to have to cook, because we are going to have a potluck of takeout.”

Mac heard Don chuckle behind her. She didn’t care. She was too busy staring at Will as he argued in support of the plan (and trying to tamp down on the urge to shove him up against the nearest wall and kiss him senseless for it).

“Obviously, a traditional potluck isn’t going to work with our schedules, but how many times have you thought about how you’d like to try a new place that’s opened up around the corner one day at lunch, and instead you wind up at the same sandwich shop you always go to or scrounging something from the lunchroom?” Will asked.

There was a murmured wave of agreement from the newsroom, and Mac began to feel the tide of opinion turn in her (well, her and Will’s) favour. She felt a smile stretch across her face.

“Exactly,” Will said. “So on Friday, we’re all going to have the opportunity to try food from all the places we always mean to try but never actually do.”

“How’re we picking the places?” Neal asked.

“Form groups,” Mac told him, jumping in to take care of the details of Will’s inspired idea. “Get together with a couple of people and pick somewhere nearby. Then, order a couple of things on Friday so there’s some selection from each place, and we’ll all share.”

“How are we making sure people don’t choose the same place?” Tess asked.

“Mac’s going to keep a list,” Will told her. “She’s in charge of this madness.”

“It’ll be fun!” Mac said, cutting him off now that it looked like he was going to revert back to his usual gruffness. “Obviously, if people don’t want to participate...”

She was cut off by a series of assurances that people were interested.

“Well, good then!” she said, practically clapping her hands. “Come see me over the next few days once you’ve decided on a restaurant. This is going to be great!”

She left everyone talking amongst themselves and turned back to Will. “It’s a good idea, Will,” she assured him.

“As long as someone doesn’t get food poisoning,” he muttered.

She frowned. “No one’s going to get food poisoning.”

“If they do,” he said. “I’ll be sure to tell legal that this was all your idea, in case anyone sues.”

Mac cocked her head to the side. “Couldn’t they just sue the restaurant the food came from?”

“They could,” Will said. “But they might also have a case against us, if this is a work sanctioned event.”

“Unofficially sanctioned,” Mac said blithely.

“Suggested by the executive producer,” Will countered.

“Completely voluntary,” Mac added, not bothering to point out that technically the idea of takeout had been suggested by the managing editor. “And seriously, no one’s going to get food poisoning.”

He watched her a moment. “Why does it matter so much to you anyway?”

She shrugged, evading the question. “I just think, sometimes we get so caught up in what we’re doing. So caught up in the news cycle, the story, the breaking news...”

“The scandal,” he muttered.

“Sometimes we get so caught up in _everything_ ,” Mac replied, determined to focus on the positive. She didn’t want to focus on Genoa today (even if it was a contributing factor to the plan). They were finally moving past the scandal, finding their feet again. That was another thing the plan might help with. “I worry we lose sight of the big picture, of what we’re doing. I just wanted to give everyone an opportunity to relax for a half an hour, to enjoy each other’s company. To connect. That’s all.”

Will watched her face, searching. Mac could see the exact second he gave in as his shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “I’ll take care of drinks,” he said quickly, turning towards his office.

Mac beamed after him. “Thanks Billy!”

With that, she gathered up her notes and headed back to her office. She had a show to do.

And another list to start.

* * *

The potluck went off mostly flawlessly.

Sure, people got called away from time to time to put out fires or chase down information. And they found out there was a very good reason everyone had been subconsciously avoiding the Thai place a couple of blocks over. Large slices of purple onion did not belong in Pad Thai for a start (unfortunately the most edible of the dishes). Also, a large amount of rice may have accidentally gotten spilled on Tess’s keyboard.

But really, those were minor issues.

Most of the food was good. People really seemed to enjoy themselves.

Mac had been a little concerned at the start of the potluck that Will would just drop off the assorted (non-alcoholic) drinks he’d brought and go hide out in his office. But he’d surprised her, taking a moment to say high to everyone before getting drawn into a conversation with Don and Martin about where to get Thai food that was actually edible.

Letting herself relax, Mac had gone in search of Jim to tease him (once again) for choosing Subway as his restaurant of choice (he maintained that as it fell within a few blocks of the building, it deserved representation at their potluck in the interest of balance and completeness; she’d eventually let him have the point).

It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Mac realized that Will had actually stayed in the bullpen for the entire lunch hour. Smiling to herself, she sought him out. Placing a hand on his elbow, she drew his attention away from well, whatever it was Martin and Neal were arguing about now. The speed with which Will turned towards her told Mac that he was about as interested in the argument as she was.

“This was a really good idea, Will,” she said softly.

He frowned slightly. “You should know,” he said pointedly. “It was yours.”

Mac shook her head. “Not quite.”

To her delight, he actually smiled. “Hey, I just took your plan for a potluck and modified it a little.”

“You made it work better,” she told him.

He huffed, obviously annoyed with her for pressing. “It was a joint effort then.”

She grinned. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Mac nudged him again. “So... Did you have a good time?”

Will looked like he was about to blow off the question when he seemed to realize that she really meant it. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he assured her. “And you can say what you like; I never would have suggested anything like this out of the blue.”

Which meant he’d done it, at least in part, for her. Which was so nice, she wasn’t sure she could describe how nice it was. Mac let her smile warm even more. “Well, I _know_ that,” she agreed.

Will just shook his head. “Still, we should probably get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. “But most people already are anyway.”

“One of the advantages of keeping things inside the building,” Will replied.

Suddenly they heard an alert from the news desk, followed by a flurry of motion.

Will chuckled. “Guess the lunch break really is over now.”

Mac glanced over at Neal, who’d practically jumped to check the computer screen. “We’re lucky the news waited this long.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Will said. “We haven’t heard what it is yet.”

“We’ve got reports of massive flooding in the northwest!” Neal called out over the noise in the room.

Mac raised an eyebrow.

Will shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We should probably cover that.”

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. Before she spun, calling for someone to get on the phone with a meteorologist, or three.


	5. Chapter 5

And that was how it started. With a potluck of takeout.

One that was half Will’s idea, in the end.

Mac thought it was appropriate somehow. Appropriate that Will (inadvertently) played such a big part in the official launch of her scheme.

She was the driving force though.

Obviously, Mac knew she’d have to make the majority of her plan a bit more subtle. Will would catch on otherwise.

Over the next few weeks, Mac subtly engineered situations that put Will in closer contact with the newsroom. Sometimes it was in the context of work, sometimes not. 

She deliberately started conversations with people about story ideas or about career progression when Will was in earshot and she kept it up until he joined in. Eventually he was giving advice to at least half the staff on a semi-regular basis. And if these conversations happened to start when someone was on their way to get coffee and Will decided to tag along, well, so much the better. 

Mac also started keeping a mental list of specific things that she wanted to talk to him about – whether he thought Maggie really was looking better these days, how difficult did he think it would be to convince ACN that the control room needed upgrading, were Neal’s pitches really getting better or was Mac just starting to drink the Kool-Aid – all so she could convince him to meet her at the bar after work at least once a week. 

She tried to set up informal bi-weekly office lunches and cake (complete with off-key singing) on people’s birthdays. She even organized midnight bowling one Friday night. She would always consider it a minor miracle that she’d gotten Will into those ridiculous shoes. She’d promised him she wouldn’t take pictures, but luckily Sloan hadn’t been bound by any such pledge.

The craziest thing of all though, was that her plan seemed to be _working._ At least, Mac thought it was. Will did seem to be less resistant to the idea of spending time with the staff. Maybe she’d just worn him down with her pestering, but it was starting to feel like any resistance Will did put up was weak at best. In fact, only last week, he’d been the one to ask _her_ if she was heading to the bar after the show.

Sometimes Mac even flattered herself that he seemed lighter somehow. Maybe even less inclined to brood. 

Obviously she hadn’t solved all of his issues. Mackenzie wasn’t stupid, nor was she naïve. She knew Will had a truckload of baggage bouncing around his brain, but she was wondering if she’d been successful in doing _something_. Just one little thing for him.

The idea made her smile. 

Plus, she admitted, she did like spending all of the extra time with him, which was a side-befit of her plan she hadn’t really considered until about midway through it. Mac certainly wasn’t upset by the perk.

Okay, maybe she _had_ considered the possible side-benefit. Of course she had. Of course it had occurred to her that getting Will to spend more time with the newsroom would bring the two of them in closer contact. But it wasn’t like that was the major thrust of the scheme. It wasn’t like...

She and Will already spent half of most days in pretty close proximity. She was literally in his ear for five hours a week. It wasn’t as if a few more hours would cause some major, cataclysmic, life-altering shift.

It might solidify their friendship a little, obviously. But that was it.

Okay, so maybe she _had_ wondered if her plan would mean that she got to spend more time with Will outside of their jobs. Maybe there had been a very little, almost infinitesimal, really teeny tiny part of her brain that had thought that might happen. Maybe a very small part of her motivations were selfish.

But it was a very small part. This wasn’t some underhanded, self-serving, phony little plan. For the most part she was doing this because she wanted to do something for _him_. Karmically, the balance was still very much in favour.

Mac was very much confident in that fact. Completely one hundred percent confident. Absolutely certain.

Okay, sometimes she had minor doubts. Little twinges from an overactive conscience. Whispers that told her maybe Will would be angry if he ever found out about her plan. Maybe he’d feel managed or controlled or worst of all.... Worst of all, maybe he’d tell her it was none of her damn business, and she didn’t have the right.

Not anymore.

Luckily, Mac had learned long ago, that sometimes those poisonous, insecure little voices just had to be ignored. All part of the joy of living in her brain.

She was more than happy not listen this time.

She was in the middle of an e-mail, vaguely considering what her next move should be (was it time for another big event, or should she go with something smaller?) when Will himself burst into her office. 

Well, he sort of burst in. 

It was a subdued burst, Mac decided after a moment. Really more of a deliberate entrance, slow, but insistent. And Mac knew something was up because he hadn’t even put up the pretence of knocking. He hadn’t knocked, but he also hadn’t immediately demanded her attention indicating an emergency. 

Most telling of all, he also hadn’t apologized for interrupting. If he wasn’t chasing down the news, Will McAvoy was nothing if not courteous (unless he was angry).

Which meant that he was distracted. Interesting. She wondered what it was about. She knew she needed to be patient, or he might never tell her. Though patience wasn’t always her strongest suit, she was determined not to push. She’d let him tell her in his own time.

Mac leaned back in her chair and waited, careful to keep her body language open.

After a moment he spoke. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied easily.

“You’re in early,” he said after a moment.

She wasn’t. Mac almost smiled. Well, wasn’t that interesting. Walking into her office without knocking _and_ small talk, bad small talk at that. So he was either awkward, or self-conscious, or both. 

She cocked her head to the side, examining him. He might have been uncertain, but he wasn’t defensive, nor was he looking threatened, or really upset in any way (Mac felt herself relax a little more, even though she’d already suspected as much). So it wasn’t bad news. Which meant that whatever Will had decided required an immediate invasion of her office, it was almost certain to be something almost unendurably sweet (or kind, or noble, or some other lovely adjective). It was all Mac could do not to try and pressure him into telling her. She knew that if she did he’d get defensive, clam up, and possibly flee. And (depending on how uncertain he was feeling) whatever he was thinking of might never happen. So instead of calling him on his white lie, Mac sidestepped the statement. “Just going through my e-mails.”

Will seemed to remember himself. “And I interrupted.”

Mac shook her head. “Will, you were CC’d on half of them, so you know very well how important most of my e-mails are today. They can wait a few minutes.”

“Or forever,” Will muttered under his breath.

Mac laughed softly.

He smiled a little in response, but still didn’t speak, obviously still mulling something over in his brain. Second-guessing whatever impulse had practically propelled him into her office. (Yes, that was it! Mac thought triumphantly. That was the right word! Will had walked in like a man propelled, propelled almost in spite of himself.)

Mac bit her lip, again desperately trying not to demand to know what he’d come to talk to her about. Her resolution had just about crumbled when he finally spoke.

“Our third anniversary’s in three days,” Will said in a whoosh.

Mac froze, her brain trying to process the words. Trying not to imagine connotations he obviously didn’t intend.

Something Will only confirmed when he next spoke. “Newsnight’s I mean,” he said. “Our... _the show’s_ third anniversary’s in a few weeks. If we’re going to do something, we should probably start thinking about it now.”

Mac didn’t bother to hide her smile, which obviously irritated him. “Should we?” she asked sweetly.

Will scowled at her (which only made her smile wider). “I just figured, since you’re the one who’s always so gung ho about marking these occasions...” he grumbled. “And you always end up shanghaiing me into hosting. I wanted some advance notice this time, is all.”

“Mmhm,” Mac hummed. 

“You do like marking every little occasion that comes along,” Will insisted.

Mac was too thrilled to be annoyed. Besides, his annoyance was very obviously all for show. She would let him play the grump if he wanted to. “We didn’t do anything last year,” she reminded him.

“We were a little busy,” Will shot back.

Mac nodded, more than aware of their troubled sophomore year. Their second anniversary had fallen right around the start of the unraveling of Genoa, so no one had felt particularly like marking the occasion. Their future had been too much in doubt. But they’d weathered it together. All the more reason to celebrate now, Mac decided, suddenly understanding what had propelled Will into her office. “We were,” she agreed softly. “And maybe it’s better if we make our anniversary celebration a semi-annual thing anyway. I’m not sure you could deal with people in your apartment any more than that.”

Will almost smiled. Then he faked a sigh. “So I guess you _do_ want to do something then.”

“Absolutely!” Mac said enthusiastically clapping her hands. “Thank you for reminding me. Hopefully we won’t be a month late this time.”

“And I guess you’ll want me to start trying to figure out food,” he muttered.

“I can do that,” she offered, wondering if he’d offered because he’d already _started._  
  
He waved a dismissive hand at her, confirming her suspicions. Mac bit her lip to stop her smile from getting absolutely embarrassingly wide.

Luckily, Will didn’t seem to notice. “Whatever,” he said. “I already know caterers. But I’m not issuing invitations, so _you_ have to tell everyone.”

“I can do that,” she assured him.

“Fine,” Will nodded. “I was thinking two weeks Saturday. It’ll be a little past the day, but...”

Mac figured the date was fine. “I’ll let everyone know.”

“Okay,” Will said, obviously relieved the conversation was nearing an end.

Mac chuckled suddenly and stood up from her desk. “You do know that means that they’ll all think this was my idea and I’ve bullied you into it.”

Will rolled his eyes, obviously absolutely _gutted_ by that fact. “Oh, no.”

His sarcasm had quite the opposite effect on her to the one he intended. She’d known the reason that had propelled him into her office would turn out to be almost unendurably sweet. Mac bit her lip as she busied herself gathering up her notebook. “Will?”

“Yeah?” he asked as he moved towards the door.

She glanced up at him as she made a show of searching through her papers, her voice softer than she’d have liked (but it couldn’t be helped). “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Didn’t feel like listening to you moan about it when you realized you’d forgotten,” Will assured her as he turned to let her get back to work.

“Hmm.” Actually, Mac figured she should have been annoyed with herself for forgetting, but she wasn’t. Not given the outcome. Then something else occurred to her. “Will?”

He turned back around.

She looked him right in the eye. “Please don’t get high this time.”

He chuckled. “I think the chances of a second emergency broadcast are unlikely, Mackenzie.”

She didn’t back down. “I don’t want to tempt fate. And I’m telling you right now, I don’t care _what_ the story is, I am not letting you go on the air high a second time.”

Will could obviously tell she was serious; he nodded once. “I’ll stick to scotch,” he promised her.

She was about to tell him that drunk wasn’t much better, before realizing she should probably accept the compromise. It was a party after all. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He shrugged.

He was almost out the door when she called one more thing after him. “This was a really good idea, Billy.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, but she hadn’t expected him too.

Mac went back to her computer and immediately minimized her e-mail. She wasn’t done going through it, but as she’d told Will, most of it didn’t matter. 

And she had a party to plan.

* * *

Will was surprisingly good about all the party planning.

And by surprisingly good about, obviously Mac meant that he did in fact take care of the food, offered his home as the location, and periodically let her pester him about the other details for five minutes or so before snapping that he really didn’t give a damn and she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Well, whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t try and arrange games of some kind. Will drew the line at organized games. For some reason, he was very adamant about that.

“This isn’t some sort of god damned bridal shower or something, Mac,” he said to her one day, as he was once again emphasizing his point. “I refuse to play ‘Pin the microphone on the newscaster’ or make someone a dress shirt out of toilet paper.”

Mac looked up from her notebook where she’d written (today’s) party planning list (at the top: _Ask Will if he’s ordered a banner this year, or if he wants me to_ ). “Did I suggest that?” she asked him neutrally.

“No,” Will admitted, dropping his head back against the couch where he was sitting next to her.

Mac raised her eyebrows. “So?”

“So, it felt like you were leading up to it,” Will muttered.

“I was asking you about decorations,” Mac said slowly, as one would if they were speaking to a small child, or an imbecile.

“Exactly,” Will said stubbornly. “And I figured it was only a short trip from talking about putting up a few balloons, to putting up balloons and hiding prizes in them, and then popping them to...”

“Have you ever even _been_ to a party where games were played?” Mac asked, interrupting his lunacy.

“Of course,” Will said immediately.

“When?” she asked, her tone heavy with disbelief.

He shrugged. “When I was six.”

The laugh bubbled out of her. She turned towards him, pleased to see he was obviously pleased with himself (and not doing as good a job as usual at concealing it). “Doesn’t count, Billy,” she said gently.

He just turned towards her, not saying anything, all hints of the smirk she’d seen earlier gone. “I’ve heard stories,” he said eventually.

“I don’t know why you seem so convinced that I want to arrange games at this party of ours,” Mackenzie said after a minute. 

“Seems like a thing you’d do,” Will insisted.

Mac just stared at him. “First of all, this isn’t a bridal shower.”

“And stupid games are limited to bridal showers?” Will asked.

“Well, bridal and baby showers, at least,” Mac muttered. “Also, children’s parties. And maybe bachelorettes.” Then she shook her head. “Will, _no one_ likes those stupid games. Or, almost no one. I guess some people must.”

“But not you?” he asked.

“Not me,” she confirmed.

He seemed to accept that, nodding absently. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said. “But if you want, I’ll order a banner.”

Will just nodded. “Well, if that’s today’s party planning powwow done...”

Mac resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious attempt to change the subject. She reached up above her head, stretching out the kinks in her shoulders, her notebook slipping to the floor. “Sure,” she said absently. “I can figure out the rest of the decorations.”

Will leaned down to pick up her notebook for her. “We both know you’ll do a better job at that than me anyway,” he told her, handing her the notebook. 

To Mac’s surprise, he didn’t let go of it right away, instead holding on for a good two seconds after she’d taken it from him. She glanced down at their hands just in time to see him release the notebook, only to run the back of his hand against hers.

Her brain stalled in the middle of an internal debate about appropriate colour schemes for newsroom third anniversaries as she tried to figure out what the brief touch meant. The gesture had been too deliberate to be accidental. 

Which meant he’d wanted to touch her.

But... but... 

_Why?_  
  
Mac’s mind couldn’t make sense of it. He’d certainly touched her before. The odd casual hand on the shoulder when he came up behind her, a finger against her arm to get her attention, hands on her shoulders when he was making a point (or trying to calm her down). But for some reason this felt... Why had he...?

Mac glanced up at him, but as she’d feared, his expression was unchanged, telling her _nothing._ Bastard.

Mac held his gaze for longer than was probably wise, given that her poker face was nowhere near as good, before pulling herself back to reality. She stood slightly awkwardly. “We probably wouldn’t have any decorations at all if I left it up to you,” she said lightly.

She felt him stand up behind her, now a more-than-respectable distance away. “Oh, I don’t know. I might have a few feet of streamer somewhere, left over from two years ago.”

She huffed. “How festive.”

“Hey, I volunteered my apartment, didn’t I?” he reminded her.

Mac softened, as she was sure he knew she would. She turned back towards him with a smile. “Yes you did, Billy. I shouldn’t complain. And we should definitely get back to our real jobs.”

“Especially since this party has already been planned to death,” Will muttered.

Mac smirked. “Oh, I think we’ll find there’s some life in it yet. Particularly with your scotch selection.”

Will stifled a groan, walked behind his desk and started muttering under his breath about locking up the liquor cabinet.

Mac took that as her cue to swish out of his office, telling herself her sudden good mood was solely due to the success of her little scheme (and absolutely _nothing_ else). Because, Mac was sure the party was going to be a good night, whatever Will said.

In fact, Mac had a sneaky suspicion he was even looking forward to it.


	6. Chapter 6

She’d say this for him, Will McAvoy threw a damn good party.

Mac was letting herself enjoy the results of all of her planning (and lists) when Sloan plopped down next to her on Will’s couch.

As usual, the economist didn’t beat around the bush. “I think Will is reaching out to you,” she said bluntly.

Mac turned to her friend in surprise, noting the glass of wine in her hand and using its existence to nip an unwanted train of thought in the bud. Because, no matter how much Mackenzie would have loved to be able to believe that what Sloan was saying was true, she knew it wasn’t. “How many of those have you had?” she asked.

“This is three, and don’t change the subject,” Sloan said immediately.

Mac closed her eyes briefly. Three. So, certainly not sober. Not drunk enough to be stupid or completely uninhibited, but loose enough to have conversations that wouldn’t be had otherwise. Conversations that shouldn’t be had. Not when Mac’s night had been going so well up until now. “Will is _not_ reaching out to me,” she insisted.

Sloan set her jaw. “I think he is.”

Mackenzie took a deep breath. If wishes were fishes... She sent her friend a smile that was sadder than she meant it to be. “He isn’t.”

Sloan stayed stubborn. “He _is._ ”

Mac shook her head. “He really isn’t, Sloan.”

That was when her friend finally lost patience. “Kenzie!”

“How on earth are you annoyed with _me_ in this conversation?” Mac asked curiously.

“Because you can’t see it,” Sloan replied immediately, her eyes wide.

Mac was far from convinced that her own lack of perception was the problem (for a start, her perception was at least a glass of wine better than Sloan’s.) Still, her curiosity was getting the better of her. Part of her just wanted to see where the other woman would take this. “See what?”

Sloan actually groaned in frustration. “That Will is reaching out to you!” she said, throwing up one of her hands (thankfully, the one that wasn’t holding her wine glass).

“Okay, fine!” Mac said, finally deciding to just accept the fact that it would probably be better to have the conversation and get it over with. She mentally steeled herself for an argument. “How is Will reaching out to me?”

Sloan waved a hand around her like the answer was obvious. “This party! Will is reaching out to you through this party.”

Mac froze before reassuring herself that there was no way Sloan could have known that the party had been Will’s idea in the first place. (Not that Mac would have minded the other woman knowing, but she was fairly sure Will wouldn’t like it.) “How is Will throwing an anniversary party for the show evidence of him reaching out to me?”

“Will hates parties!” Sloan explained, as if that settled everything.

“So?” Mac asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. 

“So, he threw one anyway,” Sloan reminded her. “Because you know who does like parties?”

Mac shrugged, trying to keep things light. “Everyone else?”

“No,” Sloan said. “Well, okay, yes. But you know who especially likes parties?”

“Well, Charlie,” Mac joked. “Provided the booze is good.”

Sloan smirked, before going back to her point. “Also, you.”

Mac prayed for patience, counting back from three in hopes of getting some. When Sloan got like this, well, tenacious was an understatement, and Mac did not feel like talking about this. She already analyzed her relationship with Will far more than was healthy. She just wanted to sit back and try not to over-think it for once. Was that so wrong? “Sloan, you said it yourself. _Everybody_ likes parties. How could you possibly conclude that Will threw this one because _I_ would like it?” Mac had to admit that the idea was far from an unpleasant one, but she also knew it was unrealistic.

“Because you’ve been pestering him to bond more with the staff lately,” Sloan said triumphantly. “I’ve seen you at it, more than once. Sometimes it’s subtle, but a lot of the time it’s really not. And trust me, Will’s noticed.”

That got Mac’s attention. Oh god. Will had noticed? He knew about the scheme? She’d thought she’d been doing really well at keeping things subtle. Or, at least subtle _ish._ It was important to keep things subtle. If Will thought she was organizing (or worse, _manipulating_ ) things, then he might think that any benefits that came from the plan, like his staff actually enjoying his company, were because of her interference and nothing to do with him. 

And that wasn’t even the worst case scenario. Mac tried not to give into the dread pooling in her stomach.

What if he knew about the plan, and he’d realized how worried she was, was he trying to... mitigate that? Was that why he’d thrown the party? Was he trying to reassure _her_? Maybe she wasn’t helping him feel better. Maybe she’d only piled on extra stress. Maybe he thought she thought he was terrible at interacting with the staff and was trying to rectify the situation. Maybe he’d taken her concern as a _criticism._ That was exactly the type of conclusion he’d come to, with his god damn insecurities that she was trying to... Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Mac just barely stopped her mind from jumping down that particular rabbit hole by jerking it back to the conversation at hand. “How do you know Will’s noticed?” she demanded, more loudly than she’d meant to in her panic.

Sloan looked smug. “Oh no, we’re going to finish my conversation first.”

“This is relevant to your conversation,” Mac told her firmly. And it wasn’t something she had any intention of dropping. She didn’t care how stubborn Sloan Sabbith thought she could be. Mackenzie McHale hadn’t gotten to where she was by being a pushover. Though, she figured a compromise wouldn’t hurt, in the interests of finding out what she wanted to know sometime today. “If you tell me, I promise to listen to the rest of your ridiculous theory.”

Sloan considered the offer for a moment before obviously deciding it was a fair exchange. “Will and I talk sometimes,” she said with a shrug. “Sometimes we go for coffee. A couple of weeks ago, he mentioned that you seemed to be particularly concerned about him lately. Mostly because you’re always encouraging him to do stuff with the staff and do things after work and... stuff. It wasn’t a big deal or anything, just an offhand comment. Once. Okay, maybe twice.”

Mac forced herself not to panic, not to look guilty. Just because Will had noticed, didn’t mean there was a problem with the plan. It was _okay_ if he noticed. She kind of needed his cooperation. At least in the sense that she needed him to show up. He could notice all of the events, just as long as he didn’t decide on a reason for them. 

It didn’t sound like Will had decided her concern was because of something he’d done, but more just something he’d observed. Mac took a calming breath and reminded herself that Will would be far more likely to put any odd behaviour from her down to her occasional spells of crazy. There was nothing wrong with the plan. Nothing wrong with the plan at all. Anyway, her motives were completely pure. Unselfish even. Well, mostly. “And what did you say?” she asked Sloan to get more details.

“I said that you were always like that, trying to get people to be friends, to play matchmaker,” Sloan replied in an attempt at reassurance. “That you just liked doing things for your friends, and he shouldn’t let it worry him.”

“ _He was worried?”_ Mackenzie asked, scandalized (and concerned all over again).

Sloan winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s not worried. It was more just... a statement. I don’t think he minds, though it’s always hard to tell what Will’s thinking.”

“You’re telling me. Wait, since when do you and Will have coffee?” Mac asked, her mind circling back to the start of the conversation.

Sloan shrugged. “I don’t know, a while now. Since I started filling in for Elliot more, I guess. You know, anchoring a show and all that. Will’s pretty great. I mean, obviously you know that. You were the one who told me that... Anyway, he’s given me advice a couple of times is all.”

Mac let herself enjoy the warmth building up in her chest at the image of Will mentoring Sloan. He was such a good man.

Sloan seemed to interpret her silence as something else. “It’s all totally platonic of course,” She said quickly. “No reason for you to be... jealous.”

Mac almost laughed. She may have gotten jealous more than once over the last three years, but Will’s relationship with Sloan had never been a concern. “I wasn’t jealous,” she said dryly, noting that Sloan was definitely a little drunker than she thought she was.

“He’s like a big brother too me,” Sloan explained obliviously. “A much older, big brother.”

Mac decided she resented that. “Hey!”

To Mac’s irritation, Sloan smirked.

Mac resisted the urge to bang her head on the back of the couch.

“Anyway!” Sloan said suddenly perking up. “Now back to my thing. Will’s noticed that you’re really promoting this whole newsroom as a family thing, and I think that’s why he let you use his place to throw a party. Because he knew it would make you happy! He’s reaching out.”

“How do you know I didn’t just pester him until he gave in?” Mac asked curiously.

Sloan waved that idea aside. “Because if he really didn’t want to throw a party, you’d never have been able to pester him. It’s not like we do this every year. Besides, did you have to pester him all that much, or did he give in surprisingly easily?”

Actually, she hadn’t had to pester him at all, Mac thought but didn`t say. She bit her lip, wondering if maybe, just maybe, Sloan had a point. Part of her was annoyed to realize that sitting here like this, in Will’s condo, it was harder to completely squash the voice whispering that it was a possibility.

“Aha!” Sloan crowed triumphantly, taking Mackenzie’s pause as a victory. “You didn’t! I knew it! I swear Kenz, he’s reaching out.”

Mac mentally cursed herself for giving even that much away. “Sloan...”

But Sloan cut in ruthlessly, her face suddenly serious. “ _No!_ I’ve seen the two of you together! When you came back, after Bin Laden, after Brian’s article, after Genoa, after... Anyway, you’re stronger now. You’re, you’re just stronger. We all are I guess, but it’s the most noticeable with you two.”

Mac shook her head violently, still not willing to believe it. Any of it. She’d been down this road before and gotten burned. She knew better now. “That’s the show,” she said softly.

But Sloan was relentless. “Is it just the show?” 

Mackenzie didn’t answer.

Sloan finally seemed to sense that she needed to stop pushing. She slumped back against the couch. “Just think about it.”

Mackenzie nodded. Then she sighed. She was lucky to have a friend who cared as much as Sloan obviously did, even if that concern occasionally made things, well, difficult. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate...”

Sloan waved a hand at her. “Please. You and Will have got to have one of the most complicated relationships I’ve ever seen.” She shut her eyes briefly.

Mackenzie frowned. Relationships were always complicated. Always. She was hoping she and Will were getting closer. She was glad to see him opening up a little more. Whether or not it was specifically in her direction wasn’t really... He needed to realize that he was important to people. It didn’t necessarily have to be her. Suddenly, Mac remembered something else the woman next to her had said. She grinned. After all, turnabout was fair play. “Sloan?”

“Hm?” Sloan asked. She opened her eyes (though, Mac was amused to note that they were a little less focused than they had been even half a minute earlier).

Mac smiled slowly, becoming more and more pleased with her idea by the second. “Have you ever told Will that he’s like a big brother to you?” she asked innocently.

Sloan frowned. “No,” she said after a moment. “Of course I haven’t.”

“Okay,” Mac said still with an easy smile. One she knew would make the other woman immediately suspicious.

She wasn’t disappointed. Sloan’s eyes slowly started to refocus. “Why? Do you think I should?”

Mac just shrugged. “Up to you.”

Now Sloan’s eyes narrowed. 

Mac tried her best to look nonchalant.

Suddenly, Sloan’s face cleared. “Oh, I get it.”

Mac tried not to be concerned by whatever Sloan had concluded. “You get what?”

“All of it,” Sloan said looking irritatingly superior.

“Sloan!” Mac said in frustration.

“You’re reaching out too!” Sloan said suddenly excited. “This is you reaching back!”

Mac just stared at her for a moment. Eventually she decided that, as it often was, denial was the easiest option. “I have no idea what you’re...”

“Sure you don’t,” Sloan said, draining her wine glass with a flourish. “Well, I guess I’ll trust you. You’ll always know him a million times better than I will, anyway. What’s the harm? I guess I should probably do this now while I’m a bit buzzed, because I’ll just chicken out later.”

“Sloan,” Mackenzie said with a laugh, finally realizing what the other woman was indeed intending to do. She hadn’t expected her friend to take action immediately (not that Mac objected).

“Here goes,” the other woman muttered, and, standing and (to Ma’s amusement) squaring her shoulders before walking very deliberately across the room towards Will, where he was on the edges of a conversation with Don, Joey, Herb and Elliot .

Mac watched delightedly as Will’s facial expression became suspicious upon seeing Sloan’s very determined approach. Even more so when she grabbed his arm and half dragged him towards the corner of the room. Mac could only assume that was to get slightly more privacy despite the fact that no one (other than her) was paying the two of them the slightest attention. She watched Will’s face shift from initial concern to amusement when he realized Sloan was fairly drunk, to almost panic when the other woman started talking. 

Eventually, Sloan paused, apparently realizing the effect she was having. Will said something awkwardly to break the silence and Sloan said one last thing before patting him on the shoulder and turning to go. Mac watched Will call after her and Sloan send him a smile in response. 

Mac was pretty sure the smile on her own face would rival it. 

Will started scanning the room, eventually finding her. She could see the surprise on his face even across the room. Mac tried to look innocent before realizing there was no way he’d every buy that. So she smiled slightly and nodded. He held her eyes another second before nodding back and slipping out of the room.

Mac let him go, sure that he probably needed a few minutes. She scanned the room to see that Sloan had gone in search of another glass of wine, something Charlie was pouring for her. Don approached them and inserted himself into their conversation to Mac’s amusement (and Sloan’s obvious delight). 

Mac took advantage of the moment alone to look around her. She wasn’t sure where Jim was, but Maggie and Tess were giggling in the corner over something (it was nice to see Maggie laugh again). Kendra and Gary were arguing. Neal and Martin were playing video games or something on Will’s flatscreen. All around her people were enjoying themselves at the party.

Just like she’d wanted.

Deciding she’d given him enough time to get a handle on himself, Mac went in search of the man who was partly responsible.

She found him, as she’d expected to, on the balcony alone, just staring off into the city (well, staring off into the city and drinking scotch).

She paused in the doorway, making enough noise to ensure he heard her. He half turned, acknowledging her presence.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said softly, walking towards him. 

Will watched her approach. “Just wanted a break from the party for a minute,” he said when she got close.

“Want company?” she asked.

She watched him pretend to consider the question. “Wouldn’t mind, I guess. Depending on who it is,” he told her with a smirk, before turning back out towards the city.

Mac knew she was one of the welcome few. She nodded, pleased before standing next to him, mirroring his pose, leaning against the balcony and watching the city. It really was a beautiful view. And it was surprisingly peaceful up there, above the city. 

Even more surprisingly, Will was the one to break the silence. Almost like he really _was_ reaching out... Mac cut that thought out of her head and forced herself to focus on his words. “Sloan told me I was like an older brother to her,” he said quickly.

Mac turned to look at him, knowing not to interrupt. He was obviously still trying to sort through it all in his brain. 

Will turned to face her. “I guess you already knew that, though.”

She took a sip of her wine, turning fully until she was facing him, her back against the railing. “Yup.”

He nodded, turning to look past her, back out across the city. “She just walked across the room, like a woman on a mission, and blurted that out. Well, okay, first she told me that she had something important to tell me. Something that she thought I should know, and that even though she’d had a few glasses of wine, she wasn’t drunk, and that’s not what this was about, and I swear to god Mac, for a minute I genuinely thought she was going to come onto me.”

Mac dissolved into giggles before she could stop herself. She tried to stifle them, but failed utterly.

Will turned to her, trying to hide his smile. “It’s not funny, Mackenzie. I was scared shitless. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a beautiful woman, but she’s _Sloan._ She’s...”

“She’s like a little sister,” Mac suggested softly.

Will glanced down at his glass.

Mac watched him a moment before leaning forward slightly and nudging his shoulder with hers.

He glanced over at her again. “She said I was like the older brother she’d never had, that she trusted... that she valued my opinion and she appreciated all I...” Will paused, and Mac almost thought she could feel her heart breaking slightly as he rubbed a hand through his hair and then across his face. “I wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

“You thought you were the only one who cared?” Mac asked softly.

Will glanced away.

And this time Mac was pretty sure her heart actually did break. “Billy...”

He shook his head. “It’s not like that. I knew she respected me... I knew... _Fuck._ ”

Mac put a hand on his elbow, trying to comfort, to tell him she was _here,_ for whatever he needed. They all were. That was the _point_. If she’d thought shouting it in his ear would help, she’d do that. If she’d thought wrapping her arms around him and never letting go would help, she’d do that. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure it would. He’d find another explanation for it. Right now, all she could do was stand beside him and try to reassure. “It’s okay.”

Will played with his glass. “And then she told me that you were right,” he admitted. “She looked surprised by that, somehow,” he added.

Mac decided she objected to that. “Hey!”

He smiled softly at her indignation and continued. “Sloan told me you were right, that she should have told me long ago.”

“When am I not right?” Mac demanded. Sure, she’d made a few mistakes in her time, but Mac would argue that she was right far more often than she was wrong.

Will turned towards her, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

Mac could see the affection behind the gesture though, so she didn’t press the issue. Not this time at least.

“I told her I felt the same way,” he muttered, glancing down.

Mac beamed at him. Of course he had, because as she kept telling everyone, when it came right down to it, Will had a heart the size of range rover. “I know.”

He glanced back up at her. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“I know everything,” Mac assured him loftily.

He shook his head gently.

Normally she would have insisted, but she wasn’t in the mood. It was too nice to just stand here with him. To stand here and let the peace on the balcony wash over her. Or maybe it was just the peace Will sometimes brought with him. Strong and solid. That was what he’d always be to her. Mac turned back around to look out over the city, enjoying the few minutes of calm. She’d spent so much energy trying to plan this party, she deserved to just relax and enjoy it. With Will.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he glanced over at his apartment, his attention caught by a sudden change in the music. “I guess someone finally convinced Jim to get out his guitar.”

“I was wondering where he’d gotten to,” Mac murmured. Jim must have ducked away for a moment, but she was glad he was back.

“Keeping tabs on everyone?” Will asked lightly.

Mac tilted her head to the side, considering the question. She was fairly certain that, in spite of his tone, it hadn’t been casual. On the other hand, it obviously hadn’t been meant as a rebuke, which made her wonder what was actually behind it. “Just trying to make sure everyone’s having a good time,” she said after a minute. “Everyone is, by the way. This was a really good idea, Will.”

As expected, he waved off the compliment.

“I mean it,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” Will said awkwardly. “Like you said, I guess I can handle people in my apartment once every two years.”

“I know it’s a struggle for you,” Mac said dryly.

Will nodded, listening to Jim run through some chords, obviously trying to decide on a song. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t tried to drag me in there yet.”

Mac laughed. “The only reason you haven’t been is probably because that someone would normally be me, and I’m already out here.”

“And you think no one else would dare?” he asked lightly.

Mac glared at him. “If nothing else, I think the last fifteen minutes have proven that Sloan would have absolutely no hesitation in doing the same thing.”

Will’s voice dipped low. “But she doesn’t care about the guitar.”

“No,” Mac agreed, ignoring the skitter in her chest his tone provoked. “ _She_ doesn’t.”

Will looked like he wanted to smile. “I’ll let Jim carry the room for a while,” he said, chuckling when Mac pouted. “But I guess I’ll play for you later, Dulcinea. Just to keep you off my back. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my guests.”

Mac smiled, trying to ignore the second skitter the nickname produced and the affectionate way he’d said it. Not to mention, the promise of a song. Something she had every intention of holding him to. After all, he’d _offered._ As one did when one was trying to... Mac shut the door ruthlessly on that thought (again). “No. Wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Kid’s got good taste,” Will murmured, as Jim finally settled on Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl.” 

“He does,” Mac agreed absently, remembering times past when Will had been the one playing this very song, sometimes for an audience, sometimes just for her. She smiled softly, realizing that though she wanted to hear Will play (she always loved to hear him play), she was enjoying the time out on the balcony enough to forgo that for as long as he wanted to. They spent so much time together, but surprisingly little like this. And he’d been so lovely about the party, even though she knew he normally didn’t like them. She glanced over at him quickly, wondering for about the fifth time in less than ten minutes if Sloan could possibly be right. Maybe Will _was_ reaching out.

Before she could go down that road too far, Will was turning back towards her and literally stretching out a hand. 

Mac managed to stifle her gasp. Barely.

“Dance with me, Mackenzie?” he whispered.

And just like that, Mac’s heart went past the occasional skitter into triple-time. She wondered idly if there was some crazy section of Will’s brain that actually thought there was a chance in hell that she was going to refuse him. She didn’t hesitate for even a second before putting her hand in his though, pleased when he pulled her against her, leading the two of them in slow circles on his balcony to the sound of Jim’s guitar. No one could see them unless they came to the door, so Mac didn’t stop herself from leaning her head slightly against his shoulder, pleased when she felt his chin drop against her hair.

She sighed softly. He was so warm and nice and... just, _Will_. When they were like this, everything else seemed to fall away. It always had. Stupidly, she hadn’t recognized what that meant until it was too late.

“Thank you,” she heard him whisper against her hair. If she hadn’t been as close as she was, she wouldn’t have heard it. 

She smiled, not having to ask him what he was thinking her for. And it wasn’t just the dance. “You’re welcome,” she whispered back.

They swayed like that for a few minutes, not really talking, happy to just sway together. Well, at least Mac was, and she could only assume Will was too. After a while, she realized that they were barely moving anymore. Somewhere along the way, his hands had shifted from a more traditional dance hold to basically just wrapped around her. And Mac was struck with the strange thought that it felt like Will had only asked her to dance because he wanted to give her a hug.

Like several things that had run through her brain in the last ten minutes, the thought was not unpleasant.

She shifted her hold accordingly, tightening her grip around his shoulders. She thrilled when he curled around her just a little further, even if he kept up the pretence of the dance by swaying slightly back and forth.

When the song wound down, Will pulled back. Mac tried not to be too disappointed. She’d always known it would only be for a few minutes.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, staring just over her shoulder. “Well, I guess I should probably get in there before someone really does come looking for me.”

Mac nodded. She probably wanted to prolong their time out on the balcony even more than he did (and for entirely different reasons), but she knew she couldn’t. “They’ll want you to play eventually.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed, turning towards her, an odd look on his face. “Come on. After all, I promised you a song,” he said, slipping his hand into hers and tugging her towards the doorway.

Mac couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t release it until after they stepped back inside.

Maybe he really was reaching out.

Maybe...

It was a line of thought that was getting harder and harder to shut down (Mackenzie cursed Sloan and her interfering ways). The battle became even harder when, after picking up a guitar, Will promptly launched into Blackbird by the Beatles. 

Mac tried very hard not to notice a smirking Jim who was only too aware the song was one of her favourites.

Instead, Mac sipped her refilled glass of wine and let herself enjoy her concert (and her little bubble of happiness). 

Will really did throw a good party. 

With her help. 

(Obviously.)


	7. Chapter 7

After their third anniversary party, Mac wondered if things were different. She wondered if, if she and Will, well, really just if Will was... different.

And sometimes she wondered if it was all just in her head. Maybe she really was going crazy this time. Maybe she’d been kidding herself all along. Maybe she’d never quite be able to give up on her (probably not so) secret hope entirely.

Maybe...

Maybe she really was getting a brain tumour.

Or maybe things _were_ changing. Even just a little.

And not just because of the dance. It was because of bloody Sloan. Bloody Sloan and her nonsense, what with her theories, and ideas, and all of her insane talk of reaching out. Couple that with grumpy anchors who sometimes barely put up a token resistance when they were badgered into meeting people at the bar after work, and who didn’t even seem to mind subtly submitting to their EPs unofficial attempts to help them realize people loved them...

Hell, Mac mentally cursed. It wasn’t even just subtle submission anymore.

Sometimes it seemed like Will was actively joining in.

* * *

“It’s an important point to raise!” Will said as he followed her into her office after the rundown meeting.

“It’s really not,” Mac assured him, dropping her notebook on her desk before spinning around to glare at him (and his absurd argument). She wasn’t sure why he was so incensed by this, but since he was, she was more than ready to face him head on.

“Two newscasters,” Will started to argue.

“From rival networks,” Mac interjected, deciding it was an important detail to emphasize “Rival networks to our own, not only to each other’s I might add.”

“Two newscasters,” Will said more firmly, “Essentially getting mired in a case of one-upmanship and what amounts to little more than a catfight for _over a week_! Side-tracked by their egos to the extent that the actual story they’re trying to convey is completely obscured by their own partisanship and senses of self-importance.”

“Bias in news reporting is nothing new, Will,” Mac reminded him.

Will threw up his hands. “I know that! You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you do know that,” Mac assured him, trying to figure out exactly what the problem was. She understood why he was annoyed by this sort of behaviour by other journalists. She understood why things like this made him crazy. She _didn’t_ understand why he was suddenly so gung ho to cover the issue on the air. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so surprised and angry about this _right now_.”

“Because this type of bias in the news has been going on for ages!” Will exploded. “It’s been getting worse and worse and worse, but no one ever says anything. _Ever._ I’m sick of it. And now news anchors are basically stooping to thinly veiled personal attacks? We’re supposed to be reporting the damn news. This isn’t acceptable, and I want to say so! Or at least make sure that people are aware of the problem.”

Mac didn’t bother pointing out that she was pretty sure a lot of people were already aware of the problem. She didn’t think that would get her anywhere. “And you don’t think it’s going to look like we’re calling our competitors stupid?” she asked instead.

“I think it _is_ going to look like that,” Will assured her. “I think some of our competitors deserve to be called stupid.”

“Will!” Mac snapped, unimpressed. It may have been true, but he knew as well as she did that they couldn’t actually _say_ it. For a whole host of reasons.

He crossed his arms defensively. “What?”

Mac resisted the urge to walk up to him and knock him on the head to make sure his skull hadn’t suddenly become hollow because his brain had leaked out of his ears. “For a start, doesn’t that make us just as bad as the people we’re calling out?”

“No. Of course not,” Will said stubbornly.

Mac blinked at him, trying to figure out how that could possibly be true. “How?”

“We’d be able to back up our claims with evidence and facts, as opposed to just self-righteous, self-aggrandizing anger,” Will assured her.

Now it was Mac’s turn to throw up her hands. “And you genuinely can’t see how fine the line is between those two things?”

“We’ve walked a fine line before,” Will reminded her.

Mac didn’t need to be reminded. She’d been there each time they’d almost fallen off. This was not an issue worth risking everything for. Not anywhere close. And it might come to that if they addressed it and things went badly. “Come on Will, you know we can’t.”

“They’re making us all look like idiots, Mac!” Will yelled.

“Some people would say we do a good enough job of that on our own,” Mac joked, trying to lighten the mood. She understood his frustration, but there was little they could do about it.

Her attempt at lightening the mood didn’t slow him down. Will went off at full speed. “They’re making us all look like incompetent hacks, and I think that someone should stand up to them and say that this is not how a newscaster should behave. And I think it should be a fellow newscaster who does it.”

Even if that argument wasn’t entirely bad, Mac was still sceptical. “You don’t think it’ll make you look like a blowhard?”

“No,” Will told her.

“I do. And you know what else I think?” Mackenzie asked, taking a step towards him. “I think it’s going to make it look like we’re trying to score points by attacking our competitors.”

“What’s wrong with scoring points on the backs of our competitors?” Will asked. “Isn’t that the point of competition?”

Mac gritted her teeth. It wasn’t how her newsroom worked. That was one of _her_ points. “Not if we have to do it like that!”

“And anyway, since when do you care what it looks like?” Will wondered, going back to her earlier point. “I thought you cared about what it is.”

“Sometimes I care about both,” Mac assured him. She could do both, if she wanted to. She just often didn’t.

Something which Will was obviously well aware of. “Only when it suits you!” he reminded her.

“Fine!” Mac decided the time for tact was done. She wasn’t producing this story, and he would know it. “What I think it _is_ , is a petty, infantile, insulting little fight! I think we need to take the high road and just ignore it. Don’t engage. Don’t try and correct them. And don’t take any shots. Just leave this pathetic, mean-spirited, insipid little story alone and let it die. In the meantime, we can report _actual_ news, instead of calling out people who are just reporting the news badly.”

“News reporting like that makes us all look bad,” Will grumbled, though for a second there, Mac swore she saw him almost grin, which confused her. He was certainly putting more effort than she’d been expecting into the argument. She really didn’t understand why he was pushing so hard. Sure, what some of their competitors were doing was idiotic, but it was hardly a crucial issue.

“Which is why, instead of stooping to their level, we need to show people how to do it better,” Mac said, trying to find some patience from somewhere. 

“I know!” Will said. “I agree with you. You know I agree with you. I just…”

“These people drive you crazy,” Mac said softly.

Will sighed. “Yeah.”

“We still can’t do the story,” Mac told him gently.

“I think we can,” Will said stubbornly.

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose briefly, wondering for about the millionth time how she managed to put up with him sometimes. She ignored the feeling; it always passed. “Will…”

“It’s something that is useful to talk about, is all I’m saying,” he insisted.

Mac looked at him for a moment. Hadn’t they already been through this? “Is it?” she asked finally. “Or is it simply a way to help you feel superior?”

“It can’t be both at once?” He asked rhetorically.

Mac felt herself chuckling suddenly, in spite of herself. “Will…”

“All I’m saying Mac, is that there’s value in acknowledging bias,” he said, most of the stubbornness gone out of his argument. Mac was sure she could see a hint of a smile playing around his face now; probably took her laughter as some kind of partial victory. Incorrectly, obviously. She still wasn’t letting him go on the air with this.

“And you know I agree with you about that,” she reminded him for what felt like the twelfth time in five minutes. “But I still don’t want us wading into this journalistic quagmire on the air. I think it will look self-serving.”

“It is self-serving!” Will said, his voice rising again.

“Will!” she snapped, wondering yet again why the hell they were even still having this argument.

“It’s other things too,” he muttered

Mac tried to go at her argument from another direction. “It’s a bad use of air time.”

“I’m not suggesting we give it five minutes at the top,” Will defended. “I’m suggesting a thirty second mention in the middle of the show. By the way, while you’re listening to the news, you should consider the biases of the anchors giving it to you. For example, this week two of my colleagues over on....”

“And you _really_ don’t think that’ll come back to bite us?” Mac asked sarcastically.

“We’d do it well,” he insisted.

She almost laughed again, but for a different reason this time. “It can’t be done well!”

Will made a frustrated sound, throwing up his hands. He paused before suddenly sliding slightly closer to her. “If we’re going to have this argument, could we at least do it with coffee?” he asked lightly.

Mac froze, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“Coffee,” Will repeated. “You want some? Caffeinated beverage sold on pretty much every street corner in this town? I know I could definitely use a cup. And a chance to stretch my legs.”

“Uh, sure,” she stuttered. “The place on the corner?”

“It’s the closest,” Will confirmed. “Unless you want to stay here and settle for the crap Don makes.”

Mac shuddered. Don’s bizarre love of terrible instant coffee was legendary. He claimed it was an homage to newsmen of old, but since he seemed to feel little nostalgia to anything else associated with the profession, no one believed him. Everyone put it down to straight up bad taste. “Yeah, I’ll pass,” Mac assured her companion.

“Then let’s go,” Will said, opening the door for her.

Mac stepped through it obediently, her mind whirling with possibilities. Reasons, motivations, appearances... 

She’d understood logically why Will was annoyed by what was going on at some of the other news broadcasts, but his apparently intense desire to talk about it on the air had surprised her. What if that wasn’t all there was to it? Her mind shuttled through the rundown meeting and hours directly prior to it searching for evidence to support her theory one way or another. He’d barely mentioned the idea of covering the story in the rundown meeting. In fact, he’d only brought it up at the very end of the meeting, just before he’d followed her into her office to argue about it... 

Suddenly Mackenzie felt his hand against the small of her back as he led her out the door. Then she felt her thoughts settle. (And not only because she was suddenly certain that her suspicions weren’t wrong.)

“Billy,” she murmured, looking up at him sideways. “Do you _really_ want to criticize other newsreaders on our air?”

She swore the question caught him by surprise. She even half-suspected him of a guilty flinch. But she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, because it was gone practically before it came. It was quick enough that Mac wondered if she’d only seen it because she wanted to. “Of course,” he said firmly. “I think it’s a valid debate to have.”

“And one that, given ACN’s position as a fellow news-organization, we will be able to have with any degree of objectivity?” Mac asked.

Will shook his head, pressing slightly more firmly on her back. “Come on Dulcinea,” he said softly. “Coffee first. Then you can argue with me some more.”

Mac smiled at the nickname. “Okay, but I’m not going to give up easy,” she warned him.

Will didn’t look bother trying to look even slightly upset by that fact. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he assured her

She just smiled. “Well, then good. Come on, let’s go get our coffee.”

* * *

They’d argued the entire time they were at the coffee shop obviously. 

Argued with matching smiles. Even if Will’s was mostly on the inside.

Mac swore she could see it in his eyes, once she’d started looking.

And she couldn’t get the idea out of her head that he’d orchestrated the whole thing as an excuse to ask her to get coffee.

It didn’t matter how often she told herself she was insane. It didn’t matter that the rational part of her brain pointed out that Will didn’t need to orchestrate an excuse to ask her to get coffee. That sometimes they did that anyway. That they had all sorts of meetings alone where they discussed story ideas for the show. That very often these meetings devolved into arguments. That this was no different. The only reason she now thought it was because of stupid _Sloan Sabbith._ Sloan Sabbith and her complete lack of human knowledge and her ridiculous theories about _reaching out_ , and well, everything.

It was all Sloan’s fault. 

The rational part of Mac’s brain tried to calmly explain to the other, somewhat less rational, part of her brain that Will had simply realized that he wanted a drink in the middle of a completely work-related argument, and decided to use his time efficiently and combine the two.

He hadn’t orchestrated the whole argument as an excuse to ask her for coffee.

He didn’t need an excuse to ask her for coffee if it was all strictly work related. 

But what if it hadn’t been? Strictly work-related that is.

Sure, it had been on the surface. But what if... what if he’d just wanted to spend a little time with her? What if he’d wanted to spend a little time with her without explanations? Without any pressure? Without the whole loaded mess of their baggage that neither of them were ready to deal with weighing them down?

What if he’d just wanted to have coffee with her? Will and Mackenzie, satisfying a mutual craving for caffeine. Casual, easy, fun.

He might have needed an excuse for that.

And Will’s sudden desire to criticize other newscasters on air _had_ been rather, well, sudden.

So maybe...

Except that, did the fact that they’d argued about work the entire time actually make it work?

Or did the fact the fact that there were other things going on make it...

It was enough to make her head swim. Of course, thinking about Will often had that effect, especially lately.

And she was too tired to sort it all out right now.

It was late. She’d been working late, sifting through story ideas for tomorrow’s show and trying to do some of the prep before she came in tomorrow. She always worked late from time to time; otherwise she felt like she was playing catch-up all week.

She was supposed to be concentrating on the recent polling data coming out of California, not the slight possibility that Will had wanted to ask her for coffee in a (sort-of) not-work-related context.

Things seemed so much clearer when she was actually _with_ Will, but the second he was gone, the constant whirling was back, thoughts and theories and dangerous, dangerous hopes coming at her in all directions.

It was... Oh, who was she kidding?

She’d be lying if she said the confusion was entirely unwelcome.

(There was a sort of delightful uncertainty underneath it all.)

Besides, she was Mackenzie McHale. She could handle anything! Even her own goddamn mind.

She just...

Mac buried her head in her hands. She hadn’t expected him to meet her halfway on this.

And that’s what this was starting to feel like. Like it was less her trying to drag a reluctant Will back into a world where he had genuine relationships that he valued and more like...

Like he was a partner.

To say that the idea made her happy would be so much of an understatement, it was laughable. She really couldn’t say what the idea made her feel. It took over her heart in her chest and the thoughts in her brain and sent absolutely everything into disarray.

And it made her not want to be sitting alone in her office.

(Especially since Will sometimes worked late too.)

Before she could second-guess herself, Mackenzie snapped upright and was heading for the door. The movement had barely registered consciously when she was already at her destination.

And there he was, sitting at his desk and staring out the window. A single lamp on the desk beside him the only light in the room, other than faint light from the hallway. He was still around, still in his office. Of course he was still in his office. Her traitorous heart was whispering that maybe he was here because she was.

Mac ignored it. She’d gotten very good at ignoring the flurry inside her when it flew up and interfered with her goal.

She just wanted to talk to him for a minute. As a distraction. Sometimes she just needed a distraction from her own thoughts.

(Or maybe she just wanted to be near him for a minute.)

When she spoke, her voice was normal. “You’re here late,” she said, leaning against the doorway. She hoped she wasn’t interrupting. He might have a good reason for being here, after all.

Will spun towards her on his chair. “So’re you,” he said after a moment.

Mac stepped into the room. “Just trying to prep for the week. You know how it is.”

Will watched for a few seconds before nodding.

Mac wondered what he was thinking about.

“Very conscientious of you,” he said, a hint of humour in his voice.

And hearing it, Mac relaxed. Whatever he was doing, he didn’t mind her interrupting him. “You know me,” she said lightly, sending him an easy smile. “And you?” 

Will raised a glass of scotch that she hadn’t noticed before out of the shadows.

“Ah,” Mac said, walking until she was just at the other side of the desk. “Not so conscientious then.”

Will smirked. “No.”

Mac was wondering how to phrase her next question when he opened the opened the drawer beside him and pulled out a second glass and the half full bottle, holding them up.

Mac shrugged at the unspoken question. “Sure, why not?”

“Why not indeed?” Will asked, opening the bottle of scotch and pouring a generous second glass. “You still drink it straight?” he asked lightly.

Mac wondered why he was asking. Will very rarely asked questions he already knew the answers to, but he wanted to observe a few of the social niceties, who was she to stop him? “Why wreck a good single malt by adding something to it?” she said instead. It’d always been her position that if she was going to drink scotch, she should drink it straight to fully appreciate it.

Will nodded, already done pouring her drink and handing her the glass. “Cheers,” he said, raising his own.

“Cheers,” she murmured, settling onto the corner of the desk next to him. She sipped the scotch slowly, deciding to try and wait him out.

“I was looking through old footage from the last few months,” Will told her eventually. “Charlie asked me to...” he waved a hand at her. “It’s a long story, and it couldn’t be less important. Anyway, I was checking old footage, sort of going through it...” He paused, looking down at his glass.

“And?” Mac asked, taking the opportunity to poke him in the shoulder.

Will looked up over at her as if he was only just noticing her. “Why are you sitting on my desk?” he asked.

Mac resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Trust Will to notice the obvious. “I was getting my scotch and it was convenient,” she told him. “What was in the footage?”

“There are about half a dozen actual chairs in this office Mackenzie!” Will told her.

“Yes,” Mac agreed. But she didn’t need them, whatever the remnants of the southern upbringing lurking around Will’s head had to say about women and offering them chairs. She was quite comfortable where she was. “Now tell me about the footage.”

To her surprise, Will didn’t, at least not right away. “Look,” he said, standing up and taking her elbow. “If we’re going to have this conversation, can we please have it on the couch like normal people, and you’re not perched on a sharp wooden corner?”

Mac glanced down at his hand on her elbow, his index finger stroking slightly along her upper arm. He was touching her again. She’d been lonely, and he was touching her. It was enough to have her sliding off the corner of the desk and letting him lead her to the couch. “Sure, if you want,” she murmured, sliding into the corner and curling her legs underneath her, knees towards him.

She watched as he sat down next to her. Will didn’t face her immediately, instead he stared up towards the ceiling, playing with his scotch glass in his hands. 

Mac propped her head up on her elbow against the back of the couch, realizing in a flash that if he didn’t want to talk, she was actually fine with that. It didn’t matter. Even if they could just sit like this...

“Charlie was asking me how many stories we’d done in the past few months about the candidates from the various parties,” Will said after a moment. “I probably shoulda just punted it to an intern, or something...”

“I think Neil keeps a tally,” Mackenzie murmured when he paused.

Will spun his head along the back of the couch to face her. “Really?”

Mac smiled at the look on his face. “Does that honestly surprise you?”

He huffed in laughter. “No,” he said eventually. “Anyway, I was going through old footage, for this thing for Charlie...”

“How many stories have we been doing about...” Mac started to ask.

“Doesn’t matter,” Will said with a wave of his hand. “I can send you the totals later if you want them.”

“Okay,” Mac said, shifting her knees into a slightly more comfortable position. Which might have brought them half a centimetre closer to Will. 

“Anyway,” Will said. “I was watching all this footage and I... Do you feel like the show’s been going more smoothly lately? Or something?”

Mac watched as he dropped his hand from his knee until it was on the couch, face up, mere inches from her legs. She swallowed. “In a, hey it only took us three years to get the hang of this kind of way, you mean?”

He chuckled as he sipped his scotch, with the hand not between them. “No, not like that, Mackenzie.”

“Will, two of the monitors shut down in the control room only last week,” she reminded him. 

Will waved a hand at her. “Please, you could take care of a little technicality like that in your sleep. I didn’t even notice, so I doubt he audience did.”

Mac tried to figure out if his hand was closer to her or farther away when he put it back down. Far better to focus on that than the warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the scotch she was sipping. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good EP, Mackenzie,” Will muttered. “I know I don’t tell you that very much...”

“I figured it went unsaid when you didn’t fire me every Friday,” Mac said lightly.

Will turned to look at her. “Can’t do that anymore,” he said lightly, reminding her of their latest contracts.

“Your loss,” she joked.

He shook his head. “Worst three million I ever spent,” he muttered. “I don’t think I ever had any intention of firing you.”

“You did,” she muttered, looking down.

There was an almost uncomfortable pause. But Mac wondered if it was different somehow. Still awkward, but not... There was less... accusation. Almost more of an acknowledgement of the past than anything else.

She wasn’t surprised when Will ignored her comment.

“Don’t you think things have been going more smoothly lately,” he asked again instead.

Mac looked up to find Will staring right at her. And she thought she might understand. Maybe he hadn’t been ignoring her comment at all. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he was thinking about that first year and thinking about now and... She nodded slowly. “I do,” she said.

He nodded back, relaxing slightly. “I thought so. I was watching the footage tonight, trying to... I don’t know what I was trying to do.”

Mac frowned, trying to follow. “Will, were you trying to figure out what we were doing to make things go more smoothly?”

Will shrugged, draining his scotch. “I guess I figured if I could figure out what it was, then maybe we could... maybe we could...”

“Make sure things stay this way?” Mackenzie asked hopefully. She could understand that. Things _were_ better. She’d been trying very hard not to dwell too much on how much better they were (and why). But there was no denying they were better. 

“What’s so wrong with that?” Will muttered.

Mac closed her eyes briefly, trying to think of an appropriate response. Mostly because she knew exactly how he felt, even if she didn’t want him obsessing over it (she did enough of that for both of them). She opened her eyes to find Will clutching his glass and staring determinedly at the wall opposite him. Mackenzie gathered her courage and took a chance. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t just trust that things will stay good?”

“What if they don’t?” he asked, turning towards her so that her hand fell against his chest. Mac wondered if it was his heart she could feel beneath her fingertips, or if that was all part of an overactive imagination. She decided she didn’t care.

“What if tomorrow Reese Lansing decides to give up his life of luxury and go live in a commune and ACN has to find a new president?” Mac asked.

“Now, there’s a human interest story I wouldn’t mind covering,” Will joked.

Mac smiled. “Seriously, Will,” she told him. “Things are good. And we’ll keep an eye on them. We’re smart people.”

“And if something changes?” Will asked.

Mac shrugged. She refused to even entertain the possibility of things going back to the way they’d been three years ago. Not when they’d already come this far. Even if they never went further, Mac was not giving back an inch. Not an inch. “Then the two of us will have to put our heads together and figure out how to change it back.”

She felt a finger brush against her knee, but didn’t dare look down to confirm that it was actually there.

“Okay,” he said after a moment.

“Okay?” Mac asked, surprised. He almost never let anything go that easily.

He smiled slightly. “Maybe you’ve just worn me down, Dulcinea.”

She smiled back, suddenly feeling lighter. “Things are good Billy, and if one day they aren’t, we’ll fix them again.”

He shut his eyes and lay back against the couch. Mac let her hand slip away, and she felt the finger drift away from her knee. She tried not to be too disappointed.

“Sorry to drag you into all this,” he muttered. 

She shook her head. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Will opened his eyes. “I don’t remember pep talks being listed in the official duties of an EP.”

She smiled. “It’s implied.”

“I guess I just didn’t feel like going home yet,” Will said after a moment. “That’s why I’m here late,” he added as an afterthought.

“I know what you mean,” Mackenzie whispered.

“You want another scotch?” he asked.

She did. She’d have loved to hide out in Will’s office with him for another hour, or three. But the late night and the scotch she’d just finished were starting to catch up to her. “I do, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now,” she admitted, trying to stifle a sudden yawn.

She saw the disappointment in his eyes, but he hid it quickly. He stood and offered her a hand. “Jesus Mac, you’re exhausted. Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Mackenzie let herself lean up against him as she stood up from the couch. “Sorry I’m not very good company tonight.”

She felt his hand under her elbow as he steadied her. “Yeah, you’re the worst,” he said huskily.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pleased.

“Come on, Kenz,” he said softly. “Let’s go get your things from your office.”

* * *

It wasn’t until long after he dropped her off, when she was in bed and trying to get to sleep, that she realized. She’d gotten more than just two nicknames and a whole host of touches.

She’d gotten almost an hour alone with Will. And neither of them had managed to fuck it up somehow. 

Mac bit her lip. She’d told herself that it was supporting the plan, this spending time with Will. Well, a lot of it anyway. Just part of the plan to help make the sure the Newsroom stayed stable. Even if there was sometimes a little bit of unexpected touching (that she couldn’t get out of her head long after it happened).

She’d told herself she was being a good EP. A selfless EP. That it was for Will. All for Will, and for the _Newsroom.  
_  
She was pretty good at convincing herself of things.

But not forever.

Because tonight, even though she’d been absolutely exhausted, she’d wanted nothing more than to curl up against Will on his office couch and stay there as long as he’d let her.

Tonight she’d been forced to confront one other realization: She was an absolute, self-delusional idiot.

Telling herself the plan was selfless. That she just wanted to do a good thing for Will. That that was all this was. 

Who had she thought she was fooling?

She was in love with him. Absolutely lost in love with him. It was always going to be him.

She’d tried to convince herself that she wasn’t in love with him. Or at least, that she’d given up on it ever going anywhere.

But in the quiet, when things slowed down, she knew the truth.

This plan had _never_ been entirely selfless. Part of it was, and if that part yielded the only benefits to it in the end, well, Mac could live with that.

But the other part of the plan (the _smaller_ part, the selfless part of her brain insisted) had just been to engineer situations so she could spend more time with Will. Maybe, maybe even see if they could be friends or... or...

Mac crushed a pillow over her face, before tossing it off a moment later in determination.

Fuck it.

Fuck selfless. She still wanted him. She absolutely wanted him. And maybe she hadn’t given up. Not entirely. Maybe she was trying to do something about it. 

Not that she was going to tell goddamned Sloan.


	8. Chapter 8

Mac woke the next morning to a world of problems.

After all, it was one thing to (finally) admit to yourself that you were still in love with your ex-boyfriend, and that you wanted to do something about it. 

It was another thing entirely to know exactly what that something was.

She knew what she wanted in the end. She wanted Will. She wanted _them_ again. But short of walking up to Will and telling him exactly that (an idea that filled Mac with terror, and not only because Will generally didn’t do well with ultimatums), Mac had no idea how to get there. 

Her plan was great, no her plan was _amazing_ , at providing her opportunities to spending time with Will in a professional setting. Hell, it was even turning out to be amazing at getting her and Will together in a room in which they weren’t yelling at or hating each other. It was amazing at helping them to be friends. It was less amazing at bridging the gap between where they were and where she desperately wanted to get.

As much as Mac hated to admit it, she found it highly unlikely that a mid-afternoon coffee break would end with Will dropping her off at her office on his way to his own, pausing, spinning on his heel, striding back through the door, shoving her up against the nearest hard surface, and kissing her until neither of them could breathe. 

Not that it was a recurring fantasy or anything.

Unfortunately, today she had bigger problems to deal with than an overactive imagination and a frustrated libido. So she’d shoved the fantasies aside in favour of the realities of her day. Because screwing up their show certainly wouldn’t help her figure out how to get Will back (or for that matter, anything else).

“Joey!” Mac called, marching into the bullpen. “I swear one of the screens in the control room is flickering again.”

“I already called IT,” he assured her. “They said it’s nothing.”

Mac stared at him. “The flickering screen?”

He shrugged. “It’s not the feed that goes out to the public. It’s just one of the internal screens. And we’ve got at least three others as backup.”

“Oh, well in that case, who cares if it goes out in the middle of a show,” Mac asked sarcastically. In her mind, that screen was a problem waiting to happen, and she wanted it fixed. _Now.  
_  
“It only flickers some of the time,” Joey reminded her. “Each time IT’s been up to check it, it’s been fine.”

“That’s convenient for them,” Mac grumbled.

“I’ve been the room with them the last two times they were here,” Joey reminded her. “It wasn’t flickering.”

“I know,” Mac sighed. But unlike her potential brain tumour, this was a real problem that actually existed. Even if it wasn’t a serious one. 

Yet.

“And if it does go out during the show, we’ve got contingency plans,” Joey reminded her.

Mac knew that. She really did. She’d written most of the contingency plans herself, and she made the entire control room practice them at least once a week. She believed in preparation and procedure. If it was a habit, there was less chance you’d panic in a crisis. She knew everything Joey was saying was true, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. “Still, I’d like to run a full diagnostic before the show tonight,” she announced.

Her proclamation was met with a series of groans from the bullpen.

This time it was Kendra who spoke up. “Mac, we just ran a diagnostic two days ago.”

“Well, do it again!” Mac ordered ruthlessly. This was her show, and while her mastery in the control room wasn’t always immediately obvious outside of it (being somewhat disguised by her tendency to spill coffee and knock over easels), her show was not a thing that anyone messed with. If they tried, Mac would remove one of her fabulous heels and use it as a weapon in defence of her baby. “I mean it. I want to be as sure as we can be, is that clear?”

Joey stood up wearily (if willingly) and made his way to the control room. “Sure thing, boss.”

“This is live television, people!” Mac called out. “We need to be prepared for all possibilities, I don’t care how remote.” She had a lot of things on her mind. She did not need to deal with a technical failure right now.

Mac waited until she heard a weak rumble of assent, before spinning towards her office, managing to bump into two of the desks along the way. She also managed to knock over her own container of pens when she tossed her notebook on her desk, but she mostly caught them before they spilled all over the floor (her office might be a shambles, but her control room would be _perfect_ ). She’d barely sat down before Will was in her office behind her, closing the door.

“You need something?” she asked. “Because I’ve got to...”

“Mac, what’s going on?” he asked gently.

She panicked for a split second (Could he see the difference on her face? Was it that obvious? Could he tell how she felt? Could he see the stress? He always told her she was a terrible liar, and unfortunately right now she had a lot she wouldn’t mind concealing.). Luckily good sense triumphed almost immediately and she recovered. “What do you mean? Why would you think...”

“Well, for a start,” Will interrupted. “You seem awfully preoccupied today with any and all potential glitches in the control room?”

“Potential glitches?” she asked, her voice rising with each syllable. He was calling them _potential glitches?_ What did he know? Out there at his anchor desk, which by the way, _she_ made sure was a fucking island of calm, while she ran around behind the scenes making the screens didn’t blow out and the control panels didn’t accidentally get fried. Let him see how he liked it if she wasn’t there and something happened... She’d show him _potential glitches!_

Mac popped up from her chair. “I’ll have you know Billy, I was just in there and that screen was definitely flickering again. Last time I checked my vision isn’t going, so unless you’re accusing me of...”

Will didn’t back down. “I’m sure the goddamn screen _is_ flickering Mackenzie, but I know that if IT and Joey think it isn’t a problem, then it probably isn’t a problem! And I also know that you probably have about sixteen different contingency plans floating around that head of yours on the off-chance that the screen does cut out in the middle of the show!”

“Yeah, if _all_ that happens is that the screen cuts out!” Mac snapped. “But what if it’s the start of a cascading power failure? What if it takes the whole studio with it? What if the problem in one screen spreads to one of the others, and we lose them all? What if there’s a power surge? What if it starts a fire? What if the flickering blows the colour and the contrast gets all screwed up and no one notices a hideous problem with one of the segments until it’s too late? What if the flickering causes someone in the control room to have a seizure, or some other medical problem? All because this wasn’t checked as thoroughly as it could have been? I’m saying that a million things could happen! A million things could go wrong, and I am not going to stand for any of them! This is my show! I’m the EP! I’ll fix it! And I’ll have you know, I only have _six_ contingency plans!”

Mac realized that at some point she’d started pacing her office waving her arms around like a crazy person. She was grateful Will had shut the door, but it had probably had little effect, given that all of the walls were glass, and sound carried pretty well in this place.

Oh god. 

Will.

Mac let her hands drop to her sides as the realization hit her. 

She felt like kicking herself. Well done Mackenzie. Really great. Excellent job. Top drawer. Because this was exactly what would attract Will. A completely neurotic woman having an almost total mental breakdown right in front of him. Just fabulous. Even if he was tempted by her at all, her obvious instability would be enough to send him running in the opposite direction just as fast as he could.

Which, not that she was trying to attract Will anymore. Well, not exactly… Okay, she was, but not right this second. Although, even if she had wanted to attract him right this second, well, it wasn’t like she knew exactly how she’d done it in the first place. 

Which sounded way worse than it actually was.

It wasn’t that she didn’t... Mac knew she was attractive. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but she didn’t cause children to cower in fear when she approached or anything. Based on looks alone though, there were many objectively more beautiful women than her that Will crossed paths with. If that was all he was looking for, he could find someone better without too much trouble. He wasn’t _that_ cranky. And sure, she was smart and good at her job. She was a good person (the one colossal mistake notwithstanding). 

But there were lots of good women out there.

And for the first few months they were together, that was what she’d never really understood. Why he’d wanted her in the first place.

Especially since lots of men not nearly as good as he was never seemed to.

It’d been vaguely baffling.

And Mac didn’t like being baffled.

Then by the time she’d realized that maybe the why didn’t matter, it was too late.

It was the tragedy of her life.

Particularly since she’d started wondering about the why again. Just sometimes, late at night when she couldn’t sleep. It would be a good thing to know, is all. Just to get a little resolution. Or something.

Not because if she knew she could craftily try and use it against him. Maybe try and recreate...

“Mac?” Will said softly, interrupting her mental digression. “What’s going on?”

Mac realized she’d been standing there for a good ten to fifteen seconds, staring off into space, not speaking. She turned towards him, opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He took a step towards her. “Mac? You still with me?”

Mac ignored the hint of amusement (almost) hidden in his question.

“Yeah,” she said finally.

“You stopped talking there, for a little bit,” Will reminded her.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

Will took another cautious step towards her. Mac winced; he was being cautious because he was probably half-terrified of setting her off again, and he didn’t want to deal with a woman in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Mac took a deep breath, determined to hold it together. 

“Okay,” he said.

She shook her head and pasted on a bright smile. “Just got a bit distracted I guess.”

He watched her for a moment, walking still closer. “You don’t say,” he murmured.

Mac’s expression turned suspicious. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve known you for years Mackenzie,” Will reminded her gently, lightly tapping the side of her head. “I know how your mind works. I know something’s spinning up there.

Mac had gotten very good at ignoring sudden lumps in her throat. “Maybe there is.” Of course there was. There _always_ was. This week more so than others. The whirling always got worse when she was stressed out. Damn it. She’d always been terrible at lying to him when he asked her things directly. She swallowed and searched for a smile.

“But you’re not going to tell me,” Will surmised, his hand dropping again as he took a step back.

“Not that interesting,” Mac said lightly, trying to play it off. It wasn’t a big deal, and he shouldn’t have to deal with the crazy whirling of her brain. That wasn’t his job anymore.

Will frowned. “Shouldn’t I at least get the opportunity to decide that for myself?”

She finally found a smile to send him, in an obvious attempt to distract. “Nope.”

“Mac...”

“Come on Billy,” she said with a smile, trying to get through this with her dignity intact. “You’d be bored stiff hearing about my every stray thought.”

“You’re really going to stand there and tell me nothing’s wrong?” Will asked.

She frowned. “You mean apart from a problem with the...”

“Yes, I mean apart from the damn screen!” Will snapped. “We both know it takes more than that to make you go all crazy! Maybe not much more, but... Problems like that usually don’t even make the top of your daily to-do list! They fall somewhere between, ‘Make sure Will hasn’t mentally scarred the newest intern for life’ and ‘Ask Tess how her vacation went!’ So what is it?”

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. Yeah, like she was going to tell him what was really making her crazy. “Don’t worry about it.”

Will opened his mouth as if to argue, before shutting it with a sigh and shaking his head, his expression slipping from concerned to sheer frustration. “Fine! Well, would you at least try not to drive the staff crazy while I go back and finish my script?”

“I’m not driving the staff crazy,” Mac muttered.

“Whatever,” was Will’s brilliant comeback as he turned to leave.

Mack just flipped open her notebook. She was going to start outlining the current structure of the show, but half of her brain was still stuck on his expression. He’d looked, well, almost... disappointed when she hadn’t told him what she’d been thinking. But that couldn’t have been right. It just...

Maybe he had...

Closing her notebook suddenly, Mackenzie glanced up in time to see Will moving towards the door. “See you at the rundown meeting?” she asked.

Will nodded absently, obviously somewhat distracted. Because of her. She bit her lip. “Will?”

The uncertainty in her voice obviously caught his attention. He stopped walking and turned back towards her looking almost... hopeful. “Mac?”

“Did you... I mean when you asked... Did you really want to know what I was thinking about?” she asked softly, her breath catching in her throat.

He just stared at her for a moment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded once.

_“Oh.”_ She wasn’t sure why his answer shocked her so much, but it did. Maybe it was because even if things were getting better, part of her had never really ever expected him to stop hating her (she deserved his hatred after all). Maybe it was because while Will did get concerned about people, it was usually less specific. Or maybe it was just because she still needed to shut down the hopeful part of her mind.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He shrugged, glancing away. “Because I am,” he answered softly before trying to lighten the mood. “Just curious, I guess.”

Curious. About her. Well. 

That was different. 

“And concerned,” he added, and Mac could see how much he meant it.

And with that, she felt herself melting, even though it probably wasn’t a good idea. It would probably be better for the fragile whatever-it-was between them if she held her tongue. But she couldn’t, not when he looked at her like he was, all sweet and genuine and just... “Will?”

“Hm?”

Now it was her turn to look hopeful. “Ask me again later? If you’re still curious that is.”

He watched her for another moment. Mac wondered, not for the first time, what the hell she was doing.

Finally, Will spoke. “When later?”

This time it was her turn to shrug. “I don’t know. When there’s alcohol involved? And no broadcast in less than three hours.”

He smirked, opening the door. “This your way of asking if I’m going to the bar after the show?”

She smiled back. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He was already out the door when she heard his reply. He said it so softly, she wasn’t sure was meant to. “First drink’s on me.”

* * *

Mac was relieved to find a quiet corner at the bar that evening. It had been a long day.

In the end, the screen hadn’t so much as flickered once during the broadcast, but Mac was choosing to believe that was just because of her extreme vigilance, combined with excellent preventative measures and contingency plans. And who knew? Maybe it was. 

Or maybe she’d just freaked out.

She didn’t know anymore. She just felt confused. Which was why she was glad of the quiet corner.

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, Will was sitting down at the table next to her holding two glasses of whiskey, one of which also had coke in it.

They hadn’t exactly come together. But they hadn’t come separately either. And she hadn’t even bothered to put up the pretence of buying her own drink before finding her table in the corner. She glanced up at his face. “Mixing good whiskey?” she asked softly. “You?”

“This isn’t good whiskey,” Will assured her. 

She almost laughed. “Oh thanks.”

“It’s not rotgut, Mac,” Will replied. “As you well know. It’s just not good enough to make mixing it with coke some sort of libationary travesty. But if you feel like drinking it straight...” he offered, holding up the other glass.

Mac shook her head. Straight was usually how she drank her whiskey, but she really wasn’t in the mood for the burn tonight. She wanted comfort. She didn’t bother asking Will how he’d known, since she hadn’t until right this second. Instead she gladly took the offered whiskey and coke. “Thanks, Billy.”

He nodded, pulling his chair slightly closer.

Mac sipped her drink, appreciating the excessive sugar she didn’t usually let herself indulge in.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment.

She really didn’t. She really, really, didn’t. She made a poor attempt at deflection that even she knew would never dissuade him. But for some reason she couldn’t quite bring herself to just say _yes_ or _no_. “Talk about what?”

She could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him at her answer. “Whatever’s bouncing around your brain, making you crazy.”

She glanced over at him suspiciously.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Come on Mackenzie, I’ve known you, what? Eight years now? Five if we don’t count the...” He coughed. “Anyway, you think I don’t know when something’s worrying you?”

Mac opened her mouth.

Will didn’t let her speak. “And don’t try and give me that bullshit about a flickering screen in the control room! You think I don’t know when you’re obsessing over a minor problem because you don’t feel like dealing with whatever’s really bothering you?”

“Maybe whatever’s bothering me isn’t something that can be dealt with,” Mac replied sadly.

Will turned slightly closer and waited.

She bit her lip and stared at her glass, wishing that there was an easy way to explain. She wasn’t trying to be stubborn or anything like that. She trusted Will more than anyone else on the planet, probably. But they were complicated. And sometimes too much complicated wasn’t a good mix. Because there wasn’t an easy way to explain why she was a little distracted. And once she started, she knew he wouldn’t let her stop halfway. And then... Well, explaining the whole thing probably wouldn’t go well.

And damn it! Things had been going so well lately too. She should have known she was tempting fate with all her talk about things running smoothly last week.

She heard him sigh next to her. “Okay, well could you at least... I mean... Please just tell me you’re all right. Can you at least do that?”

Mac looked up in horror. Without thinking she grasped his hand on the table. “Oh Billy, no!” she assured him. “I’m fine! I swear I’m fine. Clean bill of health and all that. I’m absolutely fine. Or, as fine as I ever am,” she said trying to smile.

Will nodded once. Mac squeezed his hand, trying to reassure, but she could still see the worry in his eyes. It slammed into her like a body blow. Will was _worried_. Really worried. About her.

Well, of course he was. She was acting practically certifiable.

And with that, Mac gave into the inevitable. She’d never had a hope of holding out.

She took a deep breath. “My father’s taking on another posting,” she muttered.

Will looked up in surprise. “I thought he was retired?”

“Semi-retired,” Mac corrected. “I don’t think he ever really had any intention of...” She shook her head. “It’s not an official posting, really. He’s not going back to being an official ambassador, but he has been asked to help out a bit. Travel down as a diplomatic advisor; I’m not sure what his official title is, or if he even has one beyond just a generic advisor.”

Now Will was the one to tighten his grip on her hand, stroking her thumb with his own. “Where’s the posting?” he asked.

“Greece,” Mackenzie admitted.

She felt the ripple of laughter run through him through their joined hands, though he had enough sense to keep it silent.

She looked up mildly accusing. “This isn’t funny Will!”

But all traces of humour were gone from his face. “I never said it was,” he said soothingly.

Mackenzie’s eyes narrowed.

“Although,” Will said slowly. “When you said you’re Dad had accepted another posting, I guess I just figured it was somewhere... Greece is hardly a hotbed of danger, Mac.”

“They had riots and demonstrations in Athens earlier this year!” she snapped.

“You know, I remember hearing about that,” Will said slowly. “Actually, I think I _reported_ that...”

“Well, I’m glad this is all so funny for you,” Mac snapped, trying to pull her hand back.

But Will’s grip turned surprisingly firm. “You’re right,’ he said softly. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. Is your Dad...? I thought you said he was doing alright.”

Mac took another sip of her drink. “He is,” she said after a moment. “His health is good.”

“Good,” Will murmured, his thumb sliding back and forth again, trying to soothe. 

And Mac finally just gave in admitted that she _wanted_ to be soothed. She wanted him to just gather her in his arms and tell her she was being silly and it would be alright. She wanted to curl her head into his neck and listen to him murmur comfort as she breathed him in. But that was unlikely to happen. “Yeah.”

“So what is it then?” he asked.

Mackenzie closed her eyes. “It’s just, this isn’t him heading up to London for a few weeks and consulting. This isn’t a phone call from the Prime Minister, or even a quick trip to Paris, or to the UN in New York. This is actual _travel_ , to an actual posting.”

Will looked confused. Well, of course he did. Her explanation had been about as clear as one of the foggy days London was so famous for. “What’s wrong with actual travel?” he asked after a minute.

“Actual travel always goes badly!” Mac snapped. “When it’s for work, I mean. It just, it never goes well!”

“You’re Dad’s been a diplomat all his life, Mac,” Will reminded her. “And things turned out pretty well for him. Are you sure you’re not exaggerating, just a little?”

“No, I’m not exaggerating, you idiot!” Mac hissed. “Don’t you see? Look at our track record over the past few years! Jim goes on the Romney bus and loses all common sense! Maggie travels to Africa and comes back nearly broken in a million little pieces! Hell, the last time Sloan, Elliot and Don flew to a media dinner they got stuck on an airplane for hours! And then of course there’s the absolute fucking motherload of my last trip for work! There were riots there too and I ended up...”

Mac sucked in a breath suddenly going deathly pale, realizing what she’d almost said. She’d known she’d say the wrong thing. She had trouble with finding the right words, especially when she was stressed. 

This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to talk about this. 

They _didn’t_ talk about this. 

They didn’t talk about the three years she’d been in the Middle East, and the consequences of that. It wasn’t a period in their lives that she wanted to remind him of. Particularly since things had been going so well lately. She risked a glance up at Will, only to see the colour had pretty much drained from his face as well.

She swore, before trying to spit out a garbled explanation. “I didn’t mean... I’m sorry. That was... I shouldn’t have...”

Will leaned forward, right into her personal space. “Do you really think I didn’t know?” he asked slowly, deliberately. 

Mac gasped softly, before shaking her head. “No. I was pretty sure that you did. It’s just, it’s not exactly fair to...” She hadn’t expected it to be something either of them talked about. Ever. For obvious reasons. And if they ever did, she’d hoped to lead up to it a little more gently.

Mac wrapped an arm around herself. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Stop apologizing!”_ Will hissed in frustration, his grip on her hand tightening. She watched him take a deep breath and try to get at least a semblance of control. “Jesus, Mac. You spend your day so flustered you’re practically vibrating with anxiety, and I understand that you’re worried about your Dad. But just how many things other things have you chosen to worry about on top of that, that you don’t need to? I swear I don’t know what goes on in your brain sometimes. Fuck. You can talk to...” he trailed off, obviously not sure what to say.

To her horror, Mac felt the beginnings of tears prick in the edges of her eyes. “I just wish he wasn’t travelling, is all,” she muttered. Then she stood up abruptly, freeing her hand from Will’s. “I’m sor... I should go. I have... There are things that I...” Shaking her head, at her own deficiencies, she stopped trying to force the words. Instead, she grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the exit.

She heard a second chair scraping across the floor when she was halfway to the door.

He caught up with her when she hit the sidewalk. Before she knew it, he was in front of her, firmly guiding her back towards the building, out of the path of the sidewalk. In mere seconds, Mac found herself with her back against the wall of an alcove just down from the bar.

For one brief crazy second, Mac thought he actually _was_ going to shove her up against the wall and kiss her.

“How long have you felt this way about travel?” Will asked, his voice deceptively level. Mac knew he was about three seconds away from erupting in some way or other; the problem was, she didn’t know which direction he’d go, and there were so many. Even if they’d been getting along better lately, she knew that there were unresolved issues between them.

She sighed. “I didn’t realize I did until yesterday,” she muttered.

He exhaled slowly, nodding.

Mac decided to take that as a positive sign. “I really am sorry about the...”

Will actually _growled_ low in his throat.

She stopped talking, unsure where she’d gone wrong.

“I know I’m being crazy,” she said after a moment.

“You _are_ being crazy,” Will agreed. “But that’s okay.”

She looked up at him, surprised. It was _okay?_ Really?

“He’s your father,” Will reminded her with a gentle smile. “You’re allowed to worry. Though, maybe you should try and stick to actual threats. After all, rationally even you know that your father isn’t going to be in significantly more danger in Greece than he would be in London.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“I just... I wish you’d... “ Will paused, obviously searching for what he wanted to say. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, before?” 

“I just heard about his travel plans on Monday,” Mac muttered, glancing down

Will squeezed her arm in reproach. “Try again, Mackenzie.”

“It wasn’t a problem before,” Mac said tiredly. “I guess no one’s really travelled any significant distance in the last few months...” And since no one had travelled, she hadn’t really had any opportunity to obsess about it and make the connection until now. Not that her worries made any sense. But that part at least, she knew she didn’t need to explain to him. “I don’t know what happened, why...”

“You’ve been taking care of everybody and everything for months, and you snapped,” Will said succinctly.

Mac looked up, surprised.

“You really think I haven’t noticed?” he murmured. “Everyone else has. Why do you think Joey barely batted an eye when you made them run the third diagnostic in less than a week on the control room?”

“Oh God, I did do that,” Mac said, dropping her head to her chest.

She felt him brush her hair behind her ear. “And the show was flawless.”

She smiled in spite of herself, looking up at him.

“And everybody ran the extra tests, and double checked everything they (or you) could think of, because you asked them to. And they only grumbled a little bit,” Will added lightly.

Mac bit her lip.

He was smiling at her. “You gonna be okay?”

She nodded, feelingly like maybe she would be. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” he asked, squeezing her arm.

She nodded again.

He seemed to accept that, leading her out onto the sidewalk. “Come on; let me get you a cab.”

“Okay,” she murmured. She watched him hail a taxi. “What about you?”

He turned back towards her, his eyes laughing. “I’ve got to go back in there and reassure, in this order, Jim, Sloan, Maggie Neal, Kendra, Joey, Herb, Tess, Martin and Don, that you’re fine.”

Mac felt her mouth drop open in surprise.

He shrugged. “That was the deal. It was the cost of getting you a little peace.”

Mac wrapped her arms around herself, stupidly pleased.

“Your Dad’s going to be fine, Mac,” Will said softly.

For some reason, when he said it, she believed him. “Thanks.”

“You know you can talk to me?” he half-whispered, half-asked.

That staggered her. He _wanted_ that? He really wanted to talk to her more? She almost smiled. “I do talk to you,” she promised. “I talk to you more than anyone else.”

Will seemed to accept that.

“I’m going to call you in about an hour,” he warned her. “And you’d better be getting ready to sleep, or at least relaxing.”

Mac quirked an eyebrow up. “If I’m really trying to sleep, wouldn’t calling me be counter-productive?”

“We both know there’s no way in hell you’ll actually be asleep in an hour,” Will replied calmly. “I’ll count myself lucky if you’re on your way.”

But Mac wasn’t quite ready to concede. “What’s to stop me from lying and telling you I am?”

He chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar, Mackenzie. Even over the phone.” He reached up and tucked the same lock of hair that had fallen in her face before back behind her ear. 

Mac froze. Because Will had touched her face _twice_ now. Then he opened the door of the approaching cab. “You should get in.”

She nodded once, turning to slide into the backseat before turning back around and trying to figure out something to say.

His sad little smile seemed to understand.

“Thank you for the drink,” she whispered eventually.

That caused his smile to reach his eyes. “Anytime,” he assured her.

And with that, Mac realized that she actually felt _better._ At least a little bit.

Then with a final wave before he shut the door, she was whisking away towards her apartment, feeling even more confused than she had this morning, but for entirely different reasons.

And not only because there’d been at least three moments in the past ten minutes when she’d thought he might have been about to kiss her.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Mac actually felt relatively clear-headed.

She didn’t feel the need to triple-check that she had everything she’d need for work. She wasn’t feeling self-conscious, or foolish, or anything annoying like that (which she was taking as a good sign). She didn’t even feel the need to blame each and every one of her problems on Sloan. 

Sure, Mac wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to approach Will, but that was hardly _new_. And she wasn’t even getting the panicky feeling in her chest anymore when she thought about her father’s upcoming trip. 

Maybe just saying it out loud to someone had helped her through it.

Or maybe it was the e-mail she’d gotten on her Blackberry first thing in the morning with a copy of the U.S. government’s current travel advisory for Greece, the one that essentially said there was no particular danger, provided people took regular precautions (like keeping an eye on their belongings and trying to steer clear of areas where demonstrations were in progress).

She strolled into the bullpen bright and early, ready to face the day. And she’d do it to, just as soon as she dropped off the extra coffee on Will’s desk.

* * *

Of course, Mac’s week didn’t stay that easy. She and Will were a little awkward with each other for the better part of a day, but that was the least of her problems, mainly because time was enough to sort that one out.

No, her newest problem was her own fault. 

In what Mac could only describe as a moment of insanity, she had gotten caught up in an argument with Neal about the internet’s role in the news cycle. His position, obviously, was that it becoming more and more important (something Mac agreed with), and that at NewsNight, they weren’t paying enough attention to the stories that were cropping up in cyberspace (something Mac was far from sold on). But he’d been so earnest and genuine and _sincere_ , that Mac’s own little idealistic heart had somehow gotten swept up in his enthusiasm for just a moment. Just a moment, mind you.

(Plus, he really was getting better at pitching stories. She blamed Will’s guidance. Curse her scheme for coming back to bite her... sort of.)

Anyway, the result was that she may have agreed to consider Neal’s idea of setting aside a few minutes of every broadcast this week to highlight stories from the past few months that had either originated on the internet or been significantly distributed that way, and been largely ignored by the mainstream media. Which would have been _fine_ , though Mac wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meeting where she pitched the plan to Will; she’d be sure to bring Neal to share the blame. Anyway, it would have been fine. She’d planned on having a few days to come up with a game plan while she sent Neal off to hunt up some relevant stories.

As it turned out, their enterprising blog writer had anticipated her. Of course he _had_. The second she’d given an inch, he’d been back in her office two minutes later with a file full of twenty or so stories from the past year that he thought would be appropriate, all with notes explaining their technological, cultural and political significance.

Now she was spending her lunch hour flipping through the damn things (which, the part of her trying to develop her team was pleased to note, were all extremely well researched). And that wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she’d already spent most of the morning flipping through a file full of new regulations from legal, written performance evaluations for two of the interns, approved a half a dozen requests for sick leave and vacation and requested a new chair for her office – the back of hers was becoming problematic and wouldn’t stay in the position she wanted it to, and now she was pretty sure she was getting a permanent crick in her neck.

Buried in a never-ending sea of paperwork was how Will found her.

“Please tell me you at least stopped to eat,” he murmured as he stepped into her office.

Mac held up the last quarter of the turkey sandwich she’d grabbed from the stand on the corner in response.

Will nodded. “You have a minute?”

Mac leaned back, wincing as the back of her chair shifted slightly farther than it should have. “Yeah, I could use a break from this before I go cross-eyed.”

Will smirked, walking in and sitting down across from her. “I heard Neal mentioning his latest idea to Jim on my way by.”

“It’s a good idea!” Mac defended.

Will looked unsure, raising an eyebrow at the paperwork she was currently sifting through. “Maybe.”

“Well, it’s not terrible at least,” Mac amended. “Some of these stories are pretty good. Neal was just a little... over-enthusiastic.”

“And why are you sorting through them again?” Will asked.

“Someone has to,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but you’re the executive producer. Why don’t you assign a team, hand them the folder, and tell them to prioritize them, then you can vet their choices?” Will asked. “Although, you’ve probably already gone through them already, so...”

But Mac’s eyes were already shining. “Billy that’s brilliant! And it’ll help people learn what makes a good pitch. I’ll get Jim to oversee it.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Still doesn’t mean it’ll be on the show.”

Mac waved away his apathy. “It will be, if the pitches are good enough. That’s the incentive!”

“That’s always the incentive,” Will said dryly.

“Mm,” Mac agreed, rubbing her neck lightly. In her enthusiasm, she’d somehow managed to jar it somehow, and what had been a crick was now slightly more painful.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the climate change stuff,” Will told her, apparently deciding it was finally time to get to his reason for coming to see her.

“We have to cover the President’s new climate change announcement, Will,” Mac told him.

“Did I say that we didn’t?” Will asked. “I never said that we didn’t. Obviously we have to cover it. I just think we need to put it in perspective, compare the announced plan to what other countries are doing. It’s a global issue after all.”

Mac considered that for a minute. “You’re right. I’ll put somebody on it.”

“Okay,” he replied. “Thanks.”

She nodded, only to wince again at the movement and raise her hand back to her neck.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Will asked, standing up abruptly.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, waving her free hand at him when he looked like he was going to come investigate for himself.

“Yeah, you look it,” he muttered, batting her hand out of the way on his way around her desk. “What with your constant grimacing and rubbing your neck. What’s wrong?”

“I think I pulled something,” Mac said. “Or more likely I’ve just been sitting funny. There’s something wrong with my chair, and I’ve been hunched over my desk reading files all day. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“Let me see,” Will said, walking around behind her. “Sit up.”

Mac tried to bat his hands away. She hated it when people fussed. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. “I’m fine.”

Will didn’t seem to think so. “Oh for god’s sakes. You’re going to hurt yourself!” he snapped. “Just sit up!” Then she felt his hands on her shoulders, close to her neck, and she froze.

Will was touching her. Again. And there was no way in hell this could be considered accidental, or casual, or... 

She felt his thumbs press down against the muscles below her neck and she had to bite her lip to stifle a moan. Mac was suddenly very glad that most of the blinds in her office were shut. He couldn’t be serious though. He couldn’t actually intend to give her a neck massage ( _could he? Oh god...)_. “Will?” she whispered.

“You’re holding way too much tension in your neck,” he muttered brusquely from behind her as he continued to press into the knots he found there. “And it doesn’t sound like this chair is helping matters much.”

“I already asked them to send me a new one,” she said breathlessly, closing her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of his fingers across her skin. She was very careful to control her voice, and really, any of the sounds coming out of her mouth (or at least try to). She knew if he had any idea exactly what he was doing to her he’d stop immediately, tension in her neck or no.

“Good,” Will muttered.

Mac barely managed to contain a whimper as he found a particularly painful knot.

She obviously wasn’t as successful as she’d hoped, because Will swore. “Fuck Mac. Just how much pain are you in?”

“Not that much,” she said quickly, not quite trusting her voice to say any more. Part of her wondered if maybe she should play up all of her aches and pains if this was the result. Hell, maybe she should invent some. Maybe he’d never stop. Maybe... She shifted slightly to try to give him better access. God he had fabulous hands. She’d forgotten how much she missed having them on her.

She felt him trail a hand up the back of her neck along her spine, before brushing her hair behind her ear. “You need to take better care of yourself,” he muttered before trailing his hand back down and squeezing her shoulders again.

“Mmm,” Mac hummed in agreement. It was all she could manage. The rest of her brain was concentrating on pressing her arms down hard onto the armrests of her terrible chair to prevent herself from spinning around and just throwing herself at him. While she had managed to get through the embarrassment of essentially mentally self-combusting in front of him two days earlier (because her father was getting on a _plane_ ), having him gently push her away from him was not an embarrassment she would be able to recover from easily, if at all.

If she reached out, and he rejected her... Mac bit her lip. 

It would destroy the little bubble of calm between them. It would destroy the comfort they’d found. 

And it would destroy the spark hope deep inside of her that she liked to pretend didn’t exist.

Not to mention, god did his hands feel unbelievably fucking good against her shoulders and neck. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she felt the muscles releasing. Even the pain felt good. She’d seriously forgotten how good he was with his hands. How was she ever going to go without them again now? Mac decided that was a problem from another day. She already had enough problems today as it was. 

Luckily, Will didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t holding up her end of the conversation, preferring instead to grumble about her obvious inability to take care of even the simplest things when it came to her own health. 

Mac ignored the irony of that. She was caught up in wondering if she was the biggest masochist in the world, or if there was something else wrong with her, because for some reason a neck massage felt a million times better when it came complete with grumbling just above her head in her direction.

“Seriously, Kenz,” Will said eventually, interrupting his own mutterings. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Then he shifted his hands lower down her back, to press into the muscles just below her shoulder blades.

And Mac couldn’t help herself anymore. She moaned. Audibly. Very audibly.

_Fuck._

No way of pretending that hadn’t happened.

She felt embarrassment heating up her cheeks; she probably should have felt worse actually. But it felt so good to be touched.

Will’s hands stilled immediately, as if he’d finally realized what he was doing. Mac heard a sharp intake of breath from above her. She bit her lip in disappointment, and leant her head back against his chest before she could help herself. He was going to remove his hands from her person any second now, and she was still craving his touch.

To Mac’s surprise, she felt him press into the muscles one more time to soothe them. “Did I hurt you?” he asked gruffly.

“ _God no_ ,” she whispered, opening her eyes to meet his above her.

He did snap his hands away then.

She guessed the expression on her face was too much.

Mac tried not to be too hurt. He certainly didn’t look angry, just... oh hell. She didn’t know. Maybe just confused.

She could understand that.

She was confused too. She should probably feel embarrassed and about a million other things. But pretty much everything else was being swamped by the overwhelming certainty that she wanted his hands back on her.

Instead, Will stepped back slightly, and Mac ignored the sinking in her chest.

After all, her hopes had never been realistic. (In fact, they were so unrealistic that most of the time she barely even acknowledged them.)

“Feel better?” he muttered.

She rolled her neck a little experimentally, unsurprised to find that the pain was gone, at least for the time being. She knew he was right though, and that she’d probably have to be a bit careful how she moved her neck, at least for the next few days. “Yeah, thanks,” she whispered, not dropping her gaze, uncaring that he had to be able to see her want.

She watched as he turned away from her awkwardly and walked around the desk. Mac was fairly certain her face fell. She stood up to, she didn’t know, walk him out of her office. Unexpectedly, he paused when he got to the other side of the desk. “Like I was going to just stand by and let you go through the rest of day in pain,” he said awkwardly, reaching up and brushing his fingers against her cheek as he pushed a nonexistent stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Mac reached up to reciprocate (if he was going to keep touching her then this was damn well allowed now too). She threaded her fingers through his hair briefly, seeing a flash of something in his eyes. But neither of them could quite get past the blocks in their throats. She dropped her hand.

Before she could swallow and figure out what to say, Will was coughing awkwardly and making noises about his script and how he’d talk to her at the rundown meeting.

And as she watched him go, all she could think about was that apparently Will didn’t want her to be in pain. And while she’d already known that at some level (because he wasn’t fucking cruel), part of her couldn’t wondering if that meant that he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. That he wanted her to be happy. That her punishment at his hands was over. That maybe he’d moved onto something else.

He didn’t want her to be in pain, _and_ he wanted her to talk to him now.

Mac hugged the thought against herself.

It was better than she’d ever expected.

Maybe they’d just needed time to get to this point, to be friends.

Or maybe she was really just being a stupid hopeful, romantic idiot who, fuck it all, was hopelessly in love with her ex-boyfriend, even after all these years.

That was probably the more likely scenario.

But it was getting harder and harder to stop the hope.

* * *

After the impromptu massage, Will seemed to retreat back into himself for a couple of days. Mac couldn’t say it was entirely unexpected.

With him it always felt like she was moving two steps forward, one step back.

So, because she wasn’t sure what else to do, Mackenzie continued on with her plan.

After all, she told herself, the main point of the plan hadn’t been to make Will fall back in love with her. It’d been to do something that would make him realize he had people in his life, and something that would be good for the entire newsroom.

So Mac made sure to keep arranging little outings, telling herself it was for the newsroom.

The only problem with that was, the two of them always seemed to gravitate towards each other anyway. Like the night before at the bar. Practically the whole newsroom had gone, yet she’d found him sitting right at her elbow. Not that she minded. It was where he often ended up.

It only felt natural.

And after all, why shouldn’t it? She enjoyed Will’s company. It was perfectly normal to want to spend more time with him.

Things were better between them now. And if, while at the bar with her colleagues, she decided that she wanted to spend twenty minutes debating with him about the NEA, then she damn well was going to do that. And if the conversation shifted from the NEA to who her favourite Muppet was (Gonzo, Mac’s was definitely Gonzo, while Will, unsurprisingly liked the two cranky old men), well then that was fine too.

Of course, it turned out her plan wasn’t quite as subtle as she’d hoped.

* * *

It was Charlie’s 40th anniversary in broadcast news. Mac had seized on the occasion as an opportunity for a party. It wasn’t a formal party (that would come in about a week’s time, lavishly thrown by Leona Lansing). It was just a little event right in the newsroom bullpen, a token of appreciation from the news division. At least the part of it that was located at the corporate headquarters at least. It’d been a surprise of course. Charlie had been suitably touched. Will had even made a speech. Well, a speech of sorts.

He’d referred to Charlie as a “man some would only ever see as a sentimental fool with an almost romantic picture of the news, but underneath the sheen of bourbon beat the heart of a diehard newsman.” Then he’d handed Charlie the bottle of bourbon they’d got him. Mac could neither confirm nor deny the presence tears in either man’s eyes.

(Jim had passed her a tissue with a smirk. Obviously that had required a smack in the arm in response.)

It’d been a lovely evening. And one that made Mac proud.

She was unsurprised to find that Charlie was in his element when he found her later.

He dropped an arm around her shoulders with a smile. “Will may have been the one making the speech, but I know who the driving force behind this was.”

Mac shook her head vigorously. “He wanted to,” she corrected. “He pushed hard.”

“And who put the idea in his head?” Charlie asked in a knowing tone.

Mac tried to cut him off at the pass. “Charlie...”

“And you’re not honestly going to tell me that it was his idea to circulate a massive card for everyone to sign or to decorate in red, because the fortieth anniversary is generally considered the ruby anniversary?” Charlie asked curiously.

Mackenzie decided silence was probably her best option.

Not that it helped.

Because Charlie was shaking his head, obviously in the mood to meddle. “Mackenzie, I’m older and wiser than you, and I’ve known you for a long time.”

“I may have mentioned that I thought the date was coming up when I was talking to him one day,” Mac admitted, deciding to just give up. Charlie was right. He did know her too well. And really, a casual mention had been all it took. If there was one person Will consistently trusted and valued, it was Charlie Skinner.

“And what’s your excuse for all of the other things?” Charlie asked curiously.

Mac tried to play it cool. “What other things?”

Charlie chuckled. “I’ve heard rumours,” he told her. “ _Lots_ of rumours.”

Mac tipped her chin up and tried to bluff her way out. “What’s wrong with a little workplace bonding?”

Charlie looked at her a moment, before raising his glass of bourbon. “Have I told you lately how glad I am that you came back three years ago?”

She flushed with pride, smiling cheekily. “You know, I don’t think you tell me that nearly as often as you should.”

“I’ll have to correct that then,” he told her, moving his arm around her waist. Mac giggled. 

Suddenly, Charlie turned and raised his glass a second time. Mac followed his gaze to see who he was toasting with. She was unsurprised to see Will standing across the room with a glass of his own, watching the two of them and looking almost... happy.

She liked it.

So she sent him a blinding smile, not at all displeased when he just shook his head indulgently.

“I think you should know, that I know exactly what you’re doing, Ms. McHale,” Charlie whispered near her ear.

Mac raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods existed that she could sometimes control her blush. “Hmm?”

“Those rumours I mentioned earlier,” he told her. “Events centring around this newsroom, of which I’d imagine this party is the latest.”

“This party is to celebrate an occasion,” Mac said stubbornly. “It has a set purpose.”

Charlie smiled. “I’m pretty sure the others had a purpose as well, Mackenzie,” he told her, raising his eyebrows.

Mac froze. She really couldn’t discuss this.

Charlie seemed to realize that.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t object. Not at all,” he assured her. “I’d be tempted to interfere myself, if you weren’t.”

“Charlie,” Mac said, trying to deny, well, anything and everything. “I don’t know...”

Charlie just smiled and looked superior. “It’s about time one of you did it, and it was probably always going to have to be you.”

Mac bit her lip. She really didn’t want to talk about this. It was... it was... _fragile._ “Charlie...”

Suddenly all traces of amusement were gone, replaced by a genuine seriousness. “Mackenzie. I can see what you’re doing for him. And I can see what it’s doing for both of you.”

She froze, not wanting (and not ready) to explain, or to justify. “It’s not, I mean, I wasn’t trying... After all this time... After I...”

Suddenly Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you’re not still doing penance.”

“Of course not!” Mac said quickly. Too quickly. Even she knew it. But how could she _not_ do penance? She’d destroyed everything, and nothing would ever be enough. Would it?

Charlie sighed, obviously recognizing the lie. And suddenly he looked just a little older. “Trust yourself, Mac. Just... Trust yourself. And trust him, even though he might not always deserve it, would you?” Then, to Mac’s relief he found himself again and smiled, because if she’d caused Charlie Skinner to give up hope, than she was well and truly screwed. Happily his eyes were twinkling again. “Trust yourselves. Before the two of you drive an old man to drink. More.”

She laughed. “Is that even possible?”

“I wouldn’t like to try,” Charlie admitted. “My liver might not appreciate it. My doctor definitely won’t.”

Luckily at that moment Neal saved her, rushing up to ask Charlie if he’d really reported on Elvis’ death.

Charlie slapped him on the back enthusiastically and wandered off towards a group of younger staffers, in full storytelling mode.

Mac scanned the room, her eyes finding Will’s. She wasn’t surprised when he started drifting towards her.

Good. She wanted to gloat about the success of her card. And then of course, she would need to tell him that Charlie _had so_ noticed the decorations.

She wondered if Will would try to pretend to scowl.


	10. Chapter 10

Mac was fidgeting with stuff on her desk, trying not to think about a thing she would eventually need to think about. 

She didn’t want to think about it _right now._

Right now she wanted to concentrate on the show she would be producing in a few short hours, the show that was irritatingly problem free today. Not that Mac wanted a bunch of problems to crop up, but she wouldn’t have minded some minor issue or other. Just to act as a distraction, obviously.

Unfortunately, she was currently very much distractionless.

And she couldn’t even think about her plan, which was her usual distraction these days, because her plan was tangled up with the thing that she didn’t want to think about. 

Mac paused.

She supposed she could think about her plan. Provided she stuck to a very specific part of the plan. The part that had to do with planning little events.

After all, Charlie’s Newsroom-organized surprise party had been a rousing success. Everyone had a great time. Even if Mac suspected that her boss was trying to open a door she hadn’t wanted opened (at least not by someone else, and not until she was damn sure what was on the other side). And now Charlie might try and sneak in and interfere where he wasn’t wanted.

But she wasn’t going to think about that.

She would think about the part of the plan to get people in the newsroom to socialize more, particularly Will. Yes. She could do that.

Except, that the plan was going so well now, it almost didn’t need her to organize it anymore. Everyone was practically falling into a new sort of equilibrium. People were seeking Will out (and he was reciprocating) without her having to lift a finger.

So what about the other (less dominant) half of the plan? What about her and Will? Where did it leave the two of them?

Mac was pretty sure something was going on, but she wasn’t sure exactly what. Maybe Will was just trying to be friends. Good friends, obviously, but friends nonetheless. Maybe she was misreading everything because she wanted to (god did she want to), and really all the casual touches between them were just meant to be friendly. She didn’t think so, but even if they weren’t... She had no idea what to do about it.

Mostly because she had no idea where Will stood.

Sure, things were more comfortable between them. Will obviously liked her and didn’t like seeing her upset or in pain. He trusted her at work, confided in her even; he definitely liked to tease her. Maybe he even liked touching her. And all of that was great (anytime he wanted to touch her that would be just fine). But... 

But she didn’t know if he’d forgiven her.

She didn’t know if he ever would.

And that was the problem.

Mac didn’t know if Will would ever be willing to try a relationship with her again, even if there _was_ something between them now. She didn’t know if she’d hurt him unforgivably (and sometimes she thought that she had). She didn’t know if what they’d had was obtainable again.

 _And,_ much as she wanted it, she wasn’t sure she was willing to risk what they had now to find out.

She wasn’t ready to risk this new Will, the one who was always there for her, supportive and sweet and gruff and irritating and brilliant and, goddamn it, sexy as hell. Sometimes she wanted him so much her hands practically tingled to touch.

(After that neck massage... _god..._ )

But to touch would be to risk, and that terrified her down to her bones.

Not to mention, to find out what was possible they’d have to talk. They could only avoid dealing with the missing three years of their lives for so long. She’d mentioned that time tangentially a few weeks ago at the bar in the middle of a minor mental breakdown, and the awkwardness and emotion had almost been too much for her then. Will hadn’t exactly been composed either. 

_Although,_ he had chased after her; he hadn’t let her run.

Mac didn’t know if she was ready to have the conversation they needed to have. She didn’t know if she could have it and not fuck it up. (She needed to not fuck it up.) And if _she_ wasn’t ready for it, Mac didn’t even want to imagine what Will was thinking.

He... he knew about the attack. He’d said as much. Which meant that he probably knew about the scar. But knowing and seeing were two very different things. And seeing and accepting were very different. And then accepting and moving on were different again.

Who the fuck knew where Will would end up?

Mac had a sudden image of her stalking into his office, ripping open her blouse and showing him the damn thing. Just to get it out of the way. The thought had her giggling, but her laughter was short-lived. 

God, it was so complicated. She couldn’t deal with it. With any of the things currently screwing with her brain. And Will would notice something was up. He noticed everything now.

She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. She couldn’t talk to him today, about any of it.

Which meant she needed a game plan to avoid him.

Mac decided developing one would do nicely as a distraction.

* * *

Mac was thrilled with the success of her latest plan. Not the one to get Will to socialize; the one to avoid him (yes, she was well aware of the irony). 

She’d executed it _flawlessly._

Her ability to over-think everything to death had unexpected advantages sometimes. Will hadn’t stood a chance. Sure, he’d noticed that she was distracted, but Mac had given him absolutely no opportunity to corner her and ask her about it. Each time he’d tried she had something she needed to do. She’d come up with a handy mental list of potential issues to use as escape hatches. She’d even arranged a meeting with Don immediately after the show wrapped to discuss ways of linking the eight o’clock broadcast to the ten o’clock so that Will couldn’t grab her after the show.

In fact, she’d practically flown out of the control room for their meeting and then stayed and watched the first twenty minutes of the ten o’clock just for good measure.

She should have known it would all be for nothing.

At about 10:30, Mac walked back to her office, one of the many dark rooms in the bullpen (Will’s office being another, she was happy to note), and flicked on the lights.

Only to find Will sitting in her chair, waiting for her. And he didn’t look happy.

Mac jumped.

“Jesus Will!” she said, her hand on her chest. “You scared me.”

“Did I?” he drawled, standing up slowly, and walking around the desk to meet her.

“Yes!” Mac replied, deciding going on the offensive was her best option here. She strode towards him and slammed her notebook down on the desk next to his hip. “What the hell are you doing in my office so late, and in the dark?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to tip you off,” he suggested, his voice carefully restrained.

“Tip me off?” Mac asked.

“Drop the act Mackenzie!” Will snapped suddenly, his voice cutting like a knife. “We both know you’ve been avoiding me for half the day. Why?”

That surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to call her on it so directly. “Will...” 

“No, goddamn it!” he said, picking up her notebook and slamming it back down with a bang.

It was only then that Mac realized the extent of the anger he was barely suppressing. She didn’t have time to react to it (maybe even to try to diffuse it) before Will was yelling at her again. 

“ _You’re_ the one who’s been pushing your whole newsroom-as-a-family thing!” he bellowed. _“You’re_ the one who’s always trying to get me to talk to the goddamn staff! _You’re_ the one who’s always trying to get me to connect! _You’re_ the one who’s been arranging all of these little events to try and get me to fucking open up! And then you have a hint of an issue yourself, and you close up better than a fucking turtle! What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to deal with it when you shut me... when you shut everyone out so completely? _Goddamn it Mac!_ Today you must have had a list of contingency plans a mile long to make sure you didn’t have to be in the same room as me for longer than thirty seconds!”

Mac flinched, inadvertently confirming his accusation as pain bubbled up in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him.

The colour drained from Will’s face when he realized he’d been right. Mac realized he’d probably been expecting her to have an explanation, or to deny it.

But she couldn’t deny it.

That was when Mac saw the fury really grow. Before, it had been at least half bluster, hot and quick, coming and then going just as quickly (usually thanks to a good rant). Now she watched it turn cold, cold and cruel and far, far more dangerous. Because now he was protecting himself from future hurt.

Hurt at her hands. She bit down on her lip to stifle a sob.

“Will...” she pleaded, desperately trying to head him off (trying to make him understand).

“What?” he snarled. “You actually want to talk to me now? Well, there’s no need! I see how it is. I understand perfectly _Mackenzie._ Your plan to avoid me was certainly very effective. I had to camp out in your office for an hour and a half to get a moment of your time like a fucking fool.”

Mac could hear her heart racing in her chest. She’d just wanted to avoid an argument, just wanted to... How had things gone so wrong so quickly? She was absolutely awful. “Will...”

He ignored her second attempt to interrupt him. “I see I’m not wanted. So tell me, was it really all just for the show? Was it really all just to create a high functioning team? Some management nonsense you read about in a book no doubt. _A handy management tool._ ”

“ _Of course_ it wasn’t just...” Through her shock, Mac realized that it wasn’t just anger she was seeing. It was hurt and... And oh _fuck._ Was Will feeling rejected?

_Had she inadvertently rejected Will?_

Mac actually felt sick to her stomach. She closed her eyes to control the nausea.

Will continued ranting in her direction as he paced around her office. “And what about me? You’re always trying to get me involved with the goddamn staff. Does that not include you, now? Or are you just the puppet-master? Do you not want to be one of the people I talk to anymore?”

His last accusation was enough to get Mackenzie going again. She would accept (even admit, if necessary) that she’d royally fucked up. But she wasn’t going to take _that_. Her eyes snapped open, a fire behind them again. She drew herself up to her full height and fearlessly met the ranting lunatic on the other side of her office head on. “Don’t be an idiot! Obviously I enjoy spending time with you.”

Her anger succeeded where her tentative attempts at explanations never could. Will was momentarily stunned, and when he recovered his voice was slightly calmer. “How on earth are you calling _me_ an idiot right now?”

Mac knew it would sound like a terrible reason, but it was the only one she had. And it was the only way to start the explanation, “Because I have one busy day and...”

“Actually, this is twice now,” Will interrupted, referencing the night at the bar. “It’s twice that you’ve been upset and I’ve practically had to corner you to have a conversation.”

Mac took a deep breath and prepared to face the music. “I’m sorry. I’ve just, I’ve had things on my mind.”

She watched him clench and unclench his fists and knew he was desperately trying to calm down and face her rationally. “I see.”

She took a tentative step towards him. “It’s not that I think I can’t talk to you, or that I don’t want to talk to you, or that I don’t like talking to you,” she tried to assure him.

Will obviously wasn’t convinced. She watched him deflate completely. “Right.”

The defeat in his voice went straight through her and showed in her wavering voice. “It’s not.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced away. “Was it only ever just about the show?” he asked again.

Mac almost laughed at the question. She would have laughed if it hadn’t been deadly serious. Given the amount of time she’d spent telling herself that before realising the truth, it was almost funny. Almost, but really nowhere near. “No,” she assured him quietly, angling herself slightly closer.

Something in her tone seemed to get his attention because he glanced up, leaning against her desk. “No?”

She settled against the desk next to him and nudged him in the shoulder. “We’re friends,” she murmured desperately. Then she was hit by a stray doubt of her own. “Aren’t we?”

Will ran a hand through his hair. “I thought so, but then... you were the one who ran for the hills and wouldn’t even say two words to me about it.”

She couldn’t tell him that sometimes it was hard for her to talk to him; it would hurt him. It would hurt both of them. Maybe especially now. Instead she said, “You’re hardly Mr. Communication.”

He turned to look at her accusingly, “This isn’t about me.”

She raised an eyebrow. After all, if they were going to discuss this, they should discuss both sides. “Will.”

“And anyway,” he said more loudly, obviously in the mood to argue again. Mac decoded she didn’t mind, just as long as the crushing hurt stayed out of his voice. She was sure that she wouldn’t be able to hear another second of it without throwing herself in his general direction, wrapping around him and never letting go. “Aren’t you the one who’s always yelling at me to open up more?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’m not very good at this.” It was true. She was fabulous professionally; personally, well, her track record spoke for itself. And she very rarely said the right thing, at least that’s what it felt like.

“Try anyway,” he ordered. She might have resisted, but for the pleading tone she heard underneath the command.

She ducked her head. “Does it have to be right now?”

“Mac...” he said wearily.

She heard the defeat loud and clear and shook her head violently. He’d misunderstood. Of course he had. Because she was terrible at this, at he words when they were about this. She tried desperately to fix it. “No, I mean, I... Can we not do this at work?” She didn’t want to do this at all, but she was beginning to realize that maybe she had to. And she especially didn’t want to do it in the office.

She watched him carefully as she waited for his response. He looked understandably confused. 

“It’s after ten!” Will reminded her.

She nodded. “I know.”

“Almost everybody’s left,” he added.

She smiled hopefully (in spite of herself). “I know.” 

He obviously wasn’t following. “Mac?”

“You know this place never actually empties out, Billy. Not really.” There was almost always someone milling around. More often than not, it was her and Will. But if they were going to have the conversation she was half afraid they were going to, she wanted to make sure it was just the two of them.

“You want to go somewhere else?” Will asked slowly.

She nodded. “Can we?” 

He shrugged, and the relief she could see settle across his shoulders with the movement gave her hope. He obviously didn’t care where the conversation took place. “If you need to,” he said after a moment.

She exhaled in relief, trying not to put too much stock in the fact that things were no longer the worst they could be. “I do.”

“Okay,” he said, before turning abruptly and grabbing her coat. 

Mac made sure her computer was shut off before letting him slip her coat over her shoulders and grabbing her purse. She let herself enjoy the luxury (that she probably didn’t deserve) of his hands sliding partway down her arms after he settled the jacket on her shoulders. “Will?”

“Hm?” he asked grabbing his own coat, which he’d tossed over a chair.

She walked over to the door to meet him, wanting to reassure him, to tell him that she hadn’t meant to... That it hadn’t been her intention to try and push him away. Okay, it had. But only in this particular instance. Just for a few hours. Maybe a day. Not forever. But she was realizing something. The plan had ostensibly been to help Will learn to let people care for him again, and to care for them in turn. But maybe she had some lessons of her own to learn in that area. Afghanistan had made her tough, tough and resourceful and even more self-sufficient than she’d been before. 

Maybe she didn’t need to be that self-sufficient, that independent. Not all the time at least.

She hadn’t just broken Will’s heart, she’d broken her own. And while she was a lot better at most of the stuff with other people, she was equally careful when it came right down to it.

Maybe Will wasn’t the only one who had to learn how to trust again.

Unfortunately, standing here in front of him, in the semi-darkness, at the end of a long day, she couldn’t find the words to tell him that. Any of that words.

Instead she reached out and took his hand; slowly, not taking her eyes off his face, she threaded her fingers through his and held on firmly.

Because words or no, damned if she’d let him think she didn’t want him near.

She saw his eyes flash in understanding before feeling his fingers return the grip. They stood there another few seconds, until the expression in his eyes became too much. So she tightened her grip and tugged him lightly towards the elevator, her hand firmly in his.

She didn’t let go right away. She needed the connection.

When they were in the elevator heading down towards the lobby, Mac turned towards him again. “Can we go to my place?”she asked softly. If they were going to have even part of this conversation, she’d rather be in her own home. She definitely didn’t want to end up in a bar, no matter how private it was. She saw the shock on his face, so she added quickly. “Or yours if you’d be more comfortable there.”

Will watched her for a moment. “This is your thing. Why the hell would it matter if _I_ was more comfortable?”

She laughed ruefully. It was her thing alright. “Mine it is, then.”

The elevator doors opened, and she finally let go of his hand.

The relief nearly swamped her when, once they were in the car, he grabbed it back again.

* * *

They didn’t talk much on the way over, for which Mac was grateful. She was trying to use the time to figure out how to start the conversation they were about to have (and trying to predict how it would go). In the end, she decided that sticking to the facts without embellishment was probably her best option.

She walked into her condo, tossing her coat on a chair and gesturing to Will to do the same. Then she wandered into the kitchen as he looked around.

Mac knew he wouldn’t find anything too exciting. Her place had pretty decent space, a lot of clean lines and neutral colours with flashes of bright colours here and there and a few pieces that didn’t quite match (but also didn’t quite not match). It was a bit eclectic, but she liked it.

“Nice,” he murmured. “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Do you want a drink?”

He spun partway. “What are you offering?”

She shrugged. “I’m pretty well stocked. I was just going to have a glass of white wine, but if you want something else...”

“No, the wine’s fine,” he assured her.

“Mmkay,” she agreed, grabbing a pair of glasses from the cupboard and followed by the Riesling she had chilling in the fridge.

When she joined him in the living room, she found him absently skimming her bookshelves.

“I see your taste in novels is as eclectic as ever,” Will murmured. “And I recognize a lot of these.”

Mac barely stopped herself from pointing out that she hadn’t tossed out her book collection when they’d broken up. (After all, she’d abandoned most of the rest of her life, so...) “Feel free to borrow any you’re interested in,” she told him. “The ones I haven’t read yet are in my bedroom.”

That made him smile. Mac took it as a positive sign.

“I’ll get back to you,” he replied.

She handed him his glass of wine, which he clinked against hers in a silent toast.

She smiled awkwardly and grabbed a seat on the couch. Will dropped into the chair next it. Mac took a sip of her wine before setting it down and wringing her hands.

Because it was time to end small talk for the day.

Will frowned. “Is it really that scary, Mac?”

She shook her head, knowing in a flash that she’d made an uncomfortable situation worse through pure stupidity and a healthy dose of fear. She’d told herself she just needed a few days to sort it out in her head first. That was all. But really, she’d been a coward, uncertain of where they were and how to proceed. Afraid that even a hint of the past would send them back light years. And even more afraid that he wasn’t where she was when it came to thing between them, wasn’t sure how much he’d be willing to withstand. 

“I had a meeting with Charlie today,” she said softly. “About a possible feature. He thinks we should cover Afghanistan. The ongoing troop withdrawals, I mean. He doesn’t think it’s getting enough coverage.”

“He’s probably right,” Will said, his tone neutral. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s not,” she agreed. Although, the timing of the suggestion made her a little suspicious. Mac couldn’t shake the idea that Charlie had deliberately suggested this now, to try and, she didn`t know, provoke a confrontation of sorts between her and Will. Force them to confront that part of their lives. She had no proof, just a feeling. And she didn`t like it. 

She turned her brain back to the explanation at hand. “He was thinking of having a series of perspectives on the war. Getting people from all aspects of the operation to speak, to... to talk about what they’d seen, what the troops went through, and are continuing to go through.”

Will watched her for a moment. He was obviously trying to figure out what the problem was. She reached for her glass of wine.

“He asked you to contribute,” Will said after a moment, obviously trying to get her to keep talking.

Mac nodded as she took a drink. “I haven’t been on camera in three years.”

He shrugged, dismissing the concern. “It’s just like riding a bike. You never forget.”

She almost smiled. It wasn’t the point. _“Will.”_

“You said it like it was a problem,” Will defended indignantly. “I was just being reassuring.”

This time Mac did smile. “Okay. But that’s not really the...”

“What is the issue, Mackenzie?” Will asked, trying to be calm, but Mac could hear hints of impatience.

She looked down at her knees. “Stuff happened to me over there,” she muttered.

Then he frowned, sitting up suddenly. “Wait, talk about your experiences... He didn’t ask you to...”

Mac swallowed her wine too quickly. “Talk about the stabbing? No! Are you crazy? Of course Charlie didn’t...”

Will leaned back against the chair, relaxing slightly. “Okay.”

“I think he’s just looking for perspectives,” Mac explained, trying to keep him calm. “Maybe a then and now sort of a thing. I wouldn’t have to talk about the attack. I’d talk about what it was like reporting from a war zone, being embedded with the troops, the country itself, how I felt, what I did, my experiences...”

“Getting that second Peabody,” Will teased.

Mac tried to laugh off the compliment, but her heart wasn’t in it. Award or no, those three years hadn’t exactly been the best of her life. Though they’d been rewarding in their own way.

“You don’t want to do it,” Will surmised after a moment.

Mac nodded, surprised by how well this was going so far. “I think the feature needs to be about the troops, not about the journalists, not about, well me.”

“That’s understandable,” Will assured her, leaning forward slightly. “Charlie would understand that.”

“He does,” Mac confirmed. “He still thinks perspectives might add something, and asked me to think about it.”

“Hmm.” Will hummed. He took a sip of his wine slowly, then turned his attention back to her. “So those are the facts. Now tell me what’s really bothering you.”

She closed her eyes. The bare facts may have been a start, but there was more to it. Namely the insanity of her brain twisting something that should have been simple, or at least simpler, into a massive problem. “Those three years...”

“I can’t even imagine,” he whispered.

“You don’t want to,” she told him. Even with her eyes closed, the pain in his voice went straight through her. If he was already upset, how would he react when she got to the end of it? And she couldn’t not tell him. Not if he thought her avoidance was a rejection. There were many things Mackenzie McHale could live with. Will McAvoy thinking she’d rejected him wasn’t one of them. “I mean, parts of the experience were amazing. I wouldn’t trade those times for the world. But other parts... Well, let’s just say I’m glad I got to come back.”

She watched Will stand up abruptly and walk around. Her heart sank. And here it was. The part of the conversation where Will remembered why she’d been there in the first place. What those three years represented. 

Sure, they’d been a fabulous career opportunity and she’d seen things she never would have otherwise, but she’d also been running from the life she’d ruined as far and as fast as she could. _Their_ life (or what was supposed to have been their life). It didn’t matter how much better things had gotten between them, that was a reminder that would always hurt.

She wasn’t sorry she’d gone, but she’d been sorry she’d felt like she _had to go.  
_  
She watched Will run a hand through his hair, obviously trying to sort some things out in his head.

Mac couldn’t help thinking (completely inappropriately) how much she liked his hair when it was a little bit disheveled. She shifted her mind back to the conversation at hand when Will started speaking again. “We’ve never really... I mean, when you first came back, obviously we didn’t, and then afterwards, it didn’t really seem...” He took a breath. “Charlie said you were mentally and physically exhausted three years ago. Were you? Not that it showed. I’m not trying to... Just... I mean, did you... Did you... speak to anyone?”

Mac tried to wrap her mind around that. _That_ was what he was focusing on? Her mental state from being in a war zone? On a list of things he’d start with when discussing those three years, that hadn’t even made the top ten. 

She knew she was staring at him like he’d gone crazy, but she couldn’t help it. Where were all of the accusations? The reminder of whose fault it was that she’d even been there? Where was the blame? _“What?”_

“I’m not trying to imply that... _fuck..._ ” He continued to pace, obviously trying to sort out his thoughts. “I just, if you’re having issues or...”

Mackenzie stood up and walked towards him quickly. “I’m not experiencing PTSD, Will,” she told him, reaching for his elbow to try and get him to look at her. “I’m not having nightmares. Well, not _often._ I’m not anxious. I was speaking to someone off and on when I first came back, but not for a while. I’m _fine._ ”

“Then what am I missing?” Will thundered, spinning around to face her. 

His sudden anger startled her. She’d been expecting it for ages, but was somehow surprised when it came. “What?”

Will started summarizing their conversation. “You don’t necessarily want to be on camera because you think it should be about the troops. Fine. That’s fine. Everyone understands that. You could have talked to me about that. It’s not bringing back repressed memories. You’re not worried about nightmares. Your reports from the field were objectively amazing. You saw a lot. You’re more qualified to speak to this than most of the people the other networks will have on the air. What am I missing?”

“Maybe it’s not a period of my life that I want to be reminded of!” Mac snapped, her mental control finally fraying. She couldn’t keep everything balanced anymore. She just couldn’t. She’d been trying all day and look how that turned out. “I was a good reporter and an awful everything else!”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Well, fuck.


	11. Chapter 11

_“I was a good reporter and an awful everything else!”_

_Her breath caught in her throat._

_Well, fuck.  
_  
She clapped her hands over her mouth. Fuck. Because there it was. The reminder of the horrible thing she’d done. And now they’d have to have the conversation, and it would end with accusations and shouting and possibly even Will storming out. And everything that had been good wouldn’t be anymore.

God, with all the confusion in her brain with the Will situation, she did _not_ need this added complication right now. And just about any second, she was going to lose it. She seriously needed an hour to get her head on straight. Or maybe a week. She’d just wanted to be cautious. Was that so wrong?

She couldn’t lose what they were building between them now, or what she thought they were building. She couldn’t lose him. She could admit it to herself at least, even if not to him.

Maybe she did need to learn to open up to him a little better, but did they have to start with _this?_

“What?” Will asked. His voice was deathly quiet now. 

Mac could practically hear the anger settling into his veins, ice-cold.

She took a breath. “Look, we both know that those three years weren’t exactly a cakewalk, for either of us.”

“Is _that_ what this is about?” Will asked, his voice still frighteningly level.

Mac swallowed, but kept going; she needed to get through this. “Remember a few weeks ago, we had that conversation about how things were going well?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said evenly.

“I just, I didn’t want to lose what we...” she pushed a hand against her forehead.

“Mackenzie...” It was all he said, but Mac swore she could hear the warning in it.

“God, Will! I’m sorry,” she cried, suddenly breaking. “I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault. I know I fucked it up. I just, I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t know how. I wanted to try to figure out. I thought if I could just have a day, just to sort things through. There had to be a way to...” 

She took a deep breath, and laughed mirthlessly. “Instead I did this. I didn’t mean to make you think that I didn’t want... that I couldn’t... I just didn’t know how to have the conversation, Will. If I’m honest, I still don’t. But I should have tried. I will now, if... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I fucked it up in the end. Again.”

He ignored her apology. “Jesus Christ, Mackenzie!” he shouted. (Mac couldn’t help taking the sudden heat of his anger as a good sign.) “Sometimes you... You must be the absolute craziest... How many conversations have we not had because you didn’t want to... I mean, because you thought I’d... Because you were frightened...”

That snapped her out of herself. “I wasn’t _frightened_.” 

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away.

She grabbed his elbow again and forced him to face her this time. “ _I wasn’t frightened,”_ she repeated forcefully. “I was never _frightened_. Not of you. I was worried I’d wreck things again. I just wanted things to be okay still.”

“Oh, well done,” Will said scathingly.

Mac bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop!” Will ordered. “Just, stop doing that. And seriously, how many conversations are we not having because you don’t think it’ll be good for one of us? How many times are _you_ deciding that? And how many things are you planning out, working yourself to the fucking bone to make sure no one gets upset, and everybody’s happy, while you quietly self-combust from the worry and stress in your own brain, which you then hide from everybody?”

“I didn’t want to remind you of when you hated me,” she whispered. She knew he’d never really forget, but that didn’t mean she had to bring it up.

“I don’t...” he groaned. “Do you really think I’m that... unreasonable?”

“No,” Mac assured him honestly. “I think you have good cause.”

He stepped towards her then. “Mac...”

“Sometimes I don’t know where your brain is,” she admitted softly.

“Good,” Will said decisively, reaching up and grabbing onto her sleeve at the elbow. “Because I almost never know where yours is.”

She laughed.

He didn’t. “How many things are you keeping from me?” he asked again, running the fabric of her blouse between two fingers (Mac couldn’t help taking that as a good sign as well).

“Just this,” she assured him. Well, this and her plan to try and win him back. But she figured she was well within her rights to keep that one a secret. She figured he meant she couldn’t keep secrets about things that were upsetting her, particularly if they were work related.

“Mac,” Will said in warning.

“I swear,” she assured him.

“I won’t hate you if you mention those three years,” he murmured, stroking her arm.

Mac swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said shortly. “I’m still pissed at you.”

This time she smiled. “I know.”

He sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She tipped her head to the side. “The fact that you’re pissed at me?”

She swore he almost laughed. Almost. Instead he shook his head. “The three years. What you saw. What... happened.”

A thought struck her. “Do you?”

He shrugged.

“Will?” she whispered. Was this half the problem? Did Will actually want to tackle the massive black hole in their relationship? That hadn’t even occurred to her before now, but if he did...

Oh holy mother.

“Maybe?” he said tentatively.

Mackenzie was stunned. “Really?”

“I think so,” he said.

She considered that. They obviously had to talk, but she couldn’t help feeling that they were both too keyed up for the conversation right now. “Can we do it another night? Today’s been...”

She saw him relax, and knew she’d been right. It was too soon for both of them, but maybe they were getting there. Maybe soon. “Sure,” he said easily.

“Thanks,” she said, tentatively sending him another smile.

Will watched her for a moment. “I want to be able to talk to you about things.”

Mac felt like her head was swimming. He’d said that before, but hearing it again, and after everything. She almost felt dizzy and the tingling in her fingertips was getting almost unbearable. She needed to touch him. She wanted to touch him and talk to him and just... _More._

Mac leaned into him slightly, until she could hear his breathing. “Yeah.”

“I don’t hate you, you idiot,’ he whispered. “Not even a little.”

Mac tried to contain her sob.

She felt him slide an arm around her waist loosely, holding her nearish.

“You need to take care of yourself too,” he muttered against her ear.

She pulled back again in surprise. “What?”

“You can’t just take care of the newsroom,” he explained, stepping back and looking off to the side and not meeting her eyes.

“Hm,” she hummed, pleased in spite of the increased physical distance he’d put between them.

Will obviously didn’t think she was taking him seriously. He took another step backwards. “I mean it.”

“I know.” She sighed, realizing that she still needed to explain. They didn’t need to have the entire conversation tonight (she imagined the whole thing would actually take several conversations), but there were still things they needed to talk about. Things weren’t quite fixed, but for the first time in a while, she thought that maybe they could be. At least for tonight. “I didn’t mean to... I just thought if I could figure it out in my head first...”

The relief crashed over her when he took a step back towards her.

“I get it, Kenz,” he assured her.

She looked up, and to her relief didn’t see the shadows of hurt on his face, so at least she’d somehow managed to fix _that._ It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I still don’t like it,” he added softly. “It’s bad enough when it’s the viewers, but I don’t know if I can... When you shut me off...”

That was when Mackenzie decided _screw it._ She wrapped herself around him. She’d take the risk of him pushing her away. She couldn’t help herself anymore. “That wasn’t what I meant to do,” she whispered. 

Will didn’t push her away. He wrapped his arms around her. “Next time could you, I don’t know, tell me there’s something on your mind that you’re not ready to talk about yet? Or something? Anything other than avoiding me like I’ve suddenly caught the plague?” he grumbled.

Mac mentally kicked herself. That was really a much more practical suggestion. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Too busy panicking, overanalyzing the consequences to picturing worst case scenarios to see a solution. “I could try that.”

She felt him relax against her. “Okay.”

She bit her lip. “Will?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

Mackenzie took a breath and jumped. “I might still be a little screwed up about those three years.”

She felt him sigh softly. “Me too.”

She fought down the wave of sadness rising up and threatening to choke her. “I’m so sorry. I know I wrecked it.”

“You were also the one to put some of it back together,” he murmured.

That knocked her right off-kilter for about the eighteenth time that evening (and made her realize just how much they’d needed to talk, just how much she’d been assuming and misrepresenting). 

“What?” She gasped, wondering for the thousandth time how he always somehow managed to say the one thing that hadn’t occurred to her, and cut through the crap in her brain. 

“The show,” he whispered. “NewsNight. You put it back together. It was all you. And don’t tell me you were just producing. We both know I never would have gotten my head out of my ass otherwise.” 

“Oh,” she choked. The craziest thing was, she knew he _meant_ it. She buried her head against his shoulder and tightened her grip. She’d been a moron and an idiot and he hadn’t even been angry. Not about the things she’d been worried about at least. “God, I should have talked to you hours ago, Billy.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I don’t like it when you won’t even tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was never anything you did,” she assured him. Not now, not ever. How could it have been?

“You say that, but...” He trailed off.

“But?” Mac prompted.

“But surely I must have done something? Like you said, things were going well.” Will said desperately pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.

And all of a sudden, Mac wasn’t sure either of them were just talking about this afternoon. “No,” she whispered. “This was all me.” At least most of it was. She’d been a bit uneasy in her relationship with Will when they started, not good with commitment, not ready to admit that she was in love. And maybe they should have tried to talk more about their issues instead of just ignoring them. When she’d told him he wasn’t exactly Mr. Communication, she hadn’t been understating things. It wasn’t so much that he refused to talk, it was more that she honestly thought it didn’t occur to him sometimes, or maybe he thought that they didn’t need to (apparently he’d changed his stance on the whole talking thing). Anyway, sometimes she’d felt a little lost, wondering what he was thinking. Not quite trusting him, or herself.

So maybe they were both to blame in a way, for the failure of their relationship. But the majority of the blame fell on her shoulders. Will had never done anything specific to make her feel the way she had. Although, his certainty had been frightening in comparison to her ever-whirling brain. And it made her feel like there was something wrong with her.

And now he was standing in front of her, asking to talk.

“You always say that,” Will muttered, stepping back.

“I don’t know, I think I also do a fairly good job of telling you when you’re being an idiot,” Mackenzie joked, reaching for his hand. “And you’re usually more understanding than I give you credit for.”

Will took her hand and looked at it in his. “Not always so understanding.”

The pain in her chest on his behalf was back. “Will...”

But he cut her off. “We both know it, and don’t say you deserved it because I’m so god damned sick of hearing that.”

Mac felt the tears welling up. He couldn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that he didn’t want her to blame herself, that he didn’t want her to feel badly forever. Because if he did... “Will...” she tried again, squeezing his hand to get his attention.

He still didn’t let her speak. “No! You think you’re the only one who worries about these things? You don’t think I understand what it’s like to worry about people’s reactions to the things I do? Our conversations about my imaginary friends should disabuse you of that notion more than anything. You think I don’t think about your feelings? That I’ve never...”

Mac didn’t even try to interrupt this time. She was too busy hanging onto his every word. He was gripping her hand as tightly as she was holding his.

He sighed and dropped her hand. He turned and began pacing again. “When we were together, I never really understood why you wanted me. You were Mackenzie McHale, producer extraordinaire. And you were quick and fiery and beautiful and everybody wanted you, or at least they should have. And for some reason you wanted me. And then you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” Mac insisted immediately. She couldn’t believe he’d ever felt that way.

She’d thought that was her issue. 

God if she’d needed any more proof that the two of them needed to learn how to communicate better. 

She’d always _wanted_ him. She just hadn’t realized how very much until it was too late. Because she’d been afraid of it. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. He was right. He was right; she _had_ been Mackenzie McHale, producer extraordinaire. 

The only problem was she hadn’t figured out how to do anything else yet. 

Truth be told, she was still figuring it out. And if today was any indicator, it was a slow process. She hoped to god he could be patient. She would wait for him to figure out his shit if he’d be patient with her occasional crazy. “I was just fucked up. You were amazing, and I couldn’t see it.”

Will stopped pacing dropped his head. “Not so amazing if I couldn’t see how screwed up you were about things.”

Mac winced. He hadn’t seen it, but then, she’d been hiding. She’d gotten good at pretending to be fabulous a lot of the time. After all, she certainly could have spoken up. “I should have talked to you about it, instead of doing what I did.”

Will looked up, his eyes accusing for the first time since back in her office. “Oh, _really?”_

“I’m talking to you now,” she muttered, deciding to turn the conversation more decisively back to today’s issue, instead of six years worth of mess. “And yes, I know that today it was only after cornering. But I’m trying.”

“Okay.” He whispered, apparently accepting that

Mac bit her lip. “Will?”

“Mmhm?”

She smiled up at him sadly. “You really were the man of any woman’s dreams. Someone would have to be stupid not to want you.”

He watched her for a moment. “I’m not as perfect as you seem to think.”

She ducked her head. “Pretty close.” Then she took a deep breath. “Sometimes I didn’t know why you wanted me either.”

He continued to stare at her. Mac was just about to fidget when he spoke again. “You know, you’re one of the few people in the world who consistently makes me feel less lonely, just by being in the same room.

And with that she gave up trying to ignore the hope still lurking in her brain. She knew she could be in for a disaster, but she couldn’t help it. Not anymore. 

“I’m in the same room right now,” she said breathlessly.

For a second Will’s eyes lit up. Unfortunately, they dimmed a moment later. “I know that. But you weren’t earlier today.”

Mackenzie winced, her heart sinking. She really had fucked this up royally. And she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t let things go. “D’you want me to apologize again?”

He shook his head. “No. That wasn’t why...” he trailed off, obviously trying to figure out what he was trying to say.

Mackenzie considered him. “Will,” she said after a few seconds. “I’m not one of your viewers.”

That threw him. She watched him raise his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“I’m not one of your viewers,” she repeated. “I’m not saying _You better, you better, you bet_. I’m saying, _I’m sorting stuff out. I need a minute, or an hour, or a day. But I’m here._ There are no conditions, Will.”

He stared at her for so long, Mac wondered if she’d gone too far. Then he nodded once and when he opened his mouth, his voice was almost hoarse. “That’s good Mac. That’s really good.”

She smiled, suddenly stupidly happy. Because everything was still in a mess, but at least it no longer felt _broken_. “I’m still going to give you hell when you pull punches you shouldn’t.”

He smiled back. “I know you worry about me, Mackenzie.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. Sometimes always. But there was nothing either of them could do about that. She had no intention of stopping. Not altogether, even if she knew it wasn’t exactly her place anymore. “Sometimes I try not to.”

Will shifted towards her. “How does that usually go for you?”

“Far from well,” Mackenzie admitted. At this point, she’d mostly given up trying. Unless she was having a day where it hurt too much.

He reached tentatively for her hand. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I guess I’ve been less lonely lately.”

And with that, the hope flared up again and something akin to joy swamped her, almost overloading her brain. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too,” she admitted. It was one of the reasons she’d been terrified of losing him. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost the person she always wanted to spend time with now that he seemed to like spending time with her again.

She saw him relax. Suddenly he frowned. “What are you going to tell Charlie?”

It took Mac a minute to figure out what he was talking about. Then she remembered what had started the whole thing. She walked back to the couch and picked up what remained of her wine. “I haven’t decided. Charlie doesn’t need an answer until Friday. If you want, we can talk about it tomorrow,” she offered tentatively. “I’m too turned around in my head still.”

“Maybe we should tackle it during one of our 3am phone calls,” Will joked, following her and taking his place beside her again.

She smiled. Those phone calls were another thing she probably shouldn’t like as much as she did. Apparently there this wonderful commodity called sleep that some people got to experience. (She’d rather spend her time with Will, even if he was just in her ear). “Maybe we should,” she agreed.

“Have you talked to Jim about any of this?” he asked.

She shook her head and decided to just tell him the truth. “Mostly I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

She heard his breath catch. “Jesus Mac.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she promised

“You’ll get it sorted out,” Will assured her.

“Thanks,” she whispered. And she hoped he knew that she wasn’t just talking about the reassurance.

He paused.

Mac looked up at him.

“I can talk to Charlie if you want me to,” he offered tentatively.

She frowned. “Will, you can’t talk to Charlie.”

“Why not?” he asked stubbornly, though Mac was sure he already knew the answer.

She decided to go with the short explanation. “Because I’m a big girl. I’m the EP. I’m not some intern with an issue. And I don’t need you storming in there, frothing at the mouth like a lunatic.”

“What?” he asked, looking bewildered, and slightly insulted. “What the hell, Mac? Of course that’s not... I know you can take care of... That’s not what I meant. I just wanted...”

She winced. She was certainly batting a thousand today. “Oh.”

“And I do not froth at the mouth,” he grumbled.

“ _Anyway,_ ” she said loudly, deciding to just gloss over this latest little difference of opinion. “Charlie said it was my choice. He wasn’t trying to pressure me or anything. It was just a suggestion. The last thing we need is you thundering into Charlie’s office, trying to, I don’t know, defend me or something. Just let me handle it my own way, okay?”

“Fine, I won’t talk to Charlie,” Will conceded with bad grace.

His petulant tone made her smile. “Thank you.”

Her amusement shifted when she saw genuine frustration on his face. “I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted me to y’know... That I would...”

And it hit her like a lightning bolt, what he was really offering (and what he couldn’t quite say). He’d stand by her if she needed it. Even if it was against Charlie, a man Will respected completely. And Mac was suddenly certain that whatever was between them wasn’t just on her side. Not entirely. Even if they weren’t in the same place right now, or even hoping to end up there. _“Oh.”_

Will picked up his glass of wine. “Yeah, so calm down, crazy lady.”

“Hey, you should be nicer to me,” Mac joked. “I’ve had a stressful day.”

“So have I,” Will assured her. “I could barely get two words across to my EP all day.”

Mac winced. “Well, she’s very sorry about that.” She’d screwed up. Her intentions had been good though, even if her execution had been absolutely terrible.

“S’okay,” Will said with a shrug as he downed the rest of his wine and set the glass down, trying to be casual. “I guess I’ll forgive her.”

Mac froze. Actually, she was pretty sure everything did.

Will was certainly frozen, though he thawed out first. She felt him shift slightly closer as he plucked her empty glass of wine from her hands and set it down beside his own. “I guess I’ll forgive her,” he whispered again, this time against her ear.

Mac could feel her hands shaking. “Billy...” she all but choked.

“Shhh...”he murmured, rubbing a hands up and down her arm.

But Mac would not _shh._ And she didn’t know what delusions he was suffering under if he thought she would. “She appreciates that,” she said hoarsely, before turning her head into his shoulder. Appreciates was a bit of an understatement in that she actually felt like she’d been hit in the head by a two by four and any second might begin incoherently pouring out a declaration of undying love. Unfortunately, she didn’t think it was exactly the right moment. So right now she’d have to stick with expressing appreciation.

It was apparently enough for Will. “Does she?” he asked.

 _“Oh yes,”_ Mac was quick to assure him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He couldn’t really mean what she thought he might, could he? That he forgave her for a lot more than a single little freakout. That he forgave her for... That he was even _open_ to forgiveness. Mac took a shaky breath and tried to get herself under control

Will didn’t seem to mind that she was half cuddled against him, half-shaking. In fact, she felt one of his arms wrap around her waist. “Good,” he whispered, squeezing lightly. “Could she possibly try not to be a lunatic in the future?”

“She’ll do her best,” Mac murmured against his shoulder. “She makes no promises.”

She could hear his smile in his voice. “That’s all I ask.”

Mac didn’t reply right away. She didn’t keep track of how long the silence lasted, just sat there holding him and being held. Right now, she thought it might help more than anything she could ever say.

Eventually, Mac lifted her head to look at him, uncaring if he saw the tears shining in her eyes. He had to know they’d be there. “Sit with me for a little while?”

He looked surprised by the question.

And Mac took a leap of faith. She needed to learn to talk to him so she told him the truth (or part of it, the part that was a little less scary to admit to). “I think I’d like it if you stayed in the room.” She just didn’t want him to leave right away. She wasn’t expecting anything to happen; she wasn’t expecting him to say anything more. But she did desperately want him near. And if forgiveness was potentially on the table, well, then maybe she had the right to ask...

He watched her for a moment before nodding. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind a second glass of wine.”

Mac smiled in relief. “Me too.”

She thought she caught a hint of a smile then. “Okay then.”

Mac extricated herself slowly before heading back to the kitchen to grab the bottle. “Will?” she called from the other room.

“Mmhm?”

“There’s another bottle in the fridge as well,” Mac told him. She walked back into the living room to see him still settled on the couch. “So you can stay for a while.”

“Good,” Will replied. “Because I want to hear about those three years.”

Mac’s breath stilled in her throat on her way across the room. He couldn’t really mean that, _could he?_ Even _if_ forgiveness really was on the table... “Will?”

He sighed. “Just tell me a story, Mac.” He looked nervous but determined, sitting on her couch, playing with an empty glass of wine. And damn if the intensity in his eyes wasn’t doing crazy things to her.

She smiled slightly, inspiration suddenly striking. “Only if you tell _me_ one afterwards.”

Will pursed his lips, obviously considering the request. He watched her carefully as she deliberately leaned over him to refill his glass. She was pleased to notice his eyes definitely weren’t on her face. “We’ll switch,” he said eventually.

For some reason, she felt triumphant. “Okay.”

She knew it wouldn’t fix everything. She knew it was only the start. Still, a start was more than she’d felt like she had yesterday.

She didn’t even expect anything to happen. But for the first time in a long time, Mac realized she wasn’t worried about the wrong word making him hate her all over again. And that was more than she’d ever expected. She dropped into the couch next to him and stretched out her legs, smirking when his eyes followed the movement.

Definitely not completely one-sided.

* * *

Mac actually felt lighthearted (and maybe even a little lightheaded) as she strolled into her office the next morning.

She should have felt exhausted. She’d been up until three in the morning talking to Will again. Except this time he hadn’t been on the phone, he’d been three feet from her, in her living room, drinking her wine and listening to her tell stories. Stories of fellow reporters embedded with her, of security requirements, and precautions, and calls that were a little too close, and even the one that had crossed the line.

She hadn’t actually shown him the scar (her courage had failed her, or maybe she hadn’t had quite enough wine by that point), but she’d put his hand over it through her blouse. He hadn’t even flinched, just looked sad in her direction, before launching into yet another story about one of the incompetent EPs he’d had to endure in her absence (he hadn’t actually phrased it like that, she was paraphrasing, but she wasn’t _wrong_ ).

And then, just when she’d been wondering if she did dare to start unbuttoning her blouse (for, let’s face it, multiple reasons at that point), Will had decided to be a fucking gentleman and call a cab.

Mac knew it was probably for the best, given that she was feeling a little emotional. And anyway, she could hardly feel upset, because for the first time in a while it felt like they were finally moving forward.

And she felt like maybe they were actually going to deal with their issues. In fits and spurts, and maybe not all at once, but eventually.

She almost felt like laughing.

Instead she used the energy to tackle the pile of things waiting for her on her desk.

* * *

A few hours later, she was distracted by a knock on her door. Mac looked up, slightly surprised to see Charlie on the other side. 

“You have a minute?” he asked.

“Of course,” Mac agreed immediately, shifting her attention from the early breakdown for the show. She sent him a wide smile. “What can I do for you?”

Charlie didn’t return the beam as he shut the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.

Mac frowned. “Tell you what?” Charlie looked unimpressed. A half a second later, Mackenzie swore. That jerk! Her day had been going so well. And after he’d said that he wouldn’t... “He promised he wouldn’t say anything.”

For some reason, that remark _did_ make Charlie smile. “He didn’t.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t buying it. After all, there was only one person she’d told, so there was only one way Charlie could have figured this out.

Her boss conceded with a shrug. “Okay, he did. But just barely.”

She glared at the smiling man on the other side of her desk. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. She’d thought she’d made that clear.

Charlie just continued to grin affably. “Cut him some slack. He’s worried about you.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “Of course he is.” And for some reason, while it wasn’t so bad when Will knew about her doubts, it was a little mortifying when Charlie did.

Charlie seemed to realize that. He frowned again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again.

Mac waved a hand in the air, trying to explain. “I wanted to think about it. I still do.” After all, as yesterday’s fiasco would attest, sometimes her gut reactions to things weren’t the best ones. She thought this might be one of those times, so she’d put off making a decision.

Charlie didn’t seem to believe her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Mac said a little too loudly. She sighed. “I’ll admit I had an immediate reaction that... wasn’t the best, but now that I’m taking the time to think about it rationally...” She decided not to mention that it had taken Will knocking some sense into her to make that happen. It would hardly help her argument.

Especially since Charlie seemed to believe her now. “Just promise me you won’t do it if it’s a problem.”

Mac felt her shoulders relax. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He paused. “I was just worried...”

Mac smiled softly, cutting him off. She knew that the pan across from her would never force her to do anything she was uncomfortable with. “I know.”

He nodded once. “Good.”

“I’m still going to kill him,” Mac said conversationally. She didn’t need to specify who she was talking about. 

Charlie looked at her considering. He seemed to be taking her remark more seriously than she’d meant it. “You shouldn’t,” he said eventually.

The order surprised Mac. She drew herself up to her full height and tried to look imposing. “Give me one good reason.”

Charlie paused, obviously considering how to phrase his argument. Mac waited patiently; she knew there was no rushing him when he was like this. Eventually, he spoke. “You remember what he was like when Maggie came back?”

Of course Mackenzie remembered. Maggie had looked so fragile that Mac had worried that a strong gust of wind might shatter her. They’d all tiptoed around her for weeks, if not months. Mac frowned. “This is hardly the same thing.”

Charlie didn’t even blink. “It’s exactly the same thing. Something happened to a woman Will cares about overseas that hurt her, and he couldn’t fix it. So he had to watch her in pain and do next to nothing.”

Mac gaped at her boss. How dare Charlie say that Will had done nothing for Maggie? She’d been there. She’d seen it. Will waiting in the hallway through depositions, coincidentally bringing extra donuts when he suspected she hadn’t eaten, or sometimes just watching her a little more closely. Hell, he’d even refrained from shouting at her a few times when he’d been particularly persnickety about the ratings. “He’s been nothing but supportive of Maggie!”

Charlie was smiling in his typical superior fashion again (which only irritated Mac further) “Not in his mind.”

While Mac was sure that was true, she wasn’t sure it was a good enough excuse. “So you’re saying I should just let him coddle me?”

Charlie shook his head gently. “No. I’m saying that in this instance, he was a model of restraint.”

That threw her. “What?”

So Charlie explained. “I went to talk to him, about something else entirely the way. He answered my questions civilly, though his glare the entire time I was in his office was a bit unexpected. So I asked him what was going on because he was even crankier than usual. So he explained. That’s all.”

Mac sighed. “I _told_ him...”

Charlie interrupted again. Firmly. “You told him not to try and protect you. A person he cares about.”

Something in his tone made Mac pause.

“Do you really think that was fair, Mackenzie?” Charlie asked. “Given how well you know him.”

Mac couldn’t find her voice, not that she knew what to say.

“He was almost as angry at me as I’ve ever seen him,” Charlie continued softly. “Because I went after his partner.”

Mac just stared. She guessed they were partners. Work partners obviously. What with the show, and being managing editor and EP, and...

Charlie was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “And he did interfere a little bit, Mac. I know he did. But you can’t ask him not to be upset when you are.” Suddenly Charlie looked indignant. “And quite frankly, if I ask you to do something that upsets you that much, I’d like to know.”

“I’m fine,” Mac assured him again automatically.

He didn’t seem to buy it. “Mac...”

She was insistent. She really did have a handle on this now, even if she hadn’t figured out absolutely everything. “I _am._ ”

This time she seemed to convince Charlie. “Okay,” he said after a minute.

“Okay,” she repeated.

Charlie turned to go before spinning back around before he reached the door. “He really was as upset as I’ve seen him in a long time.”

Mac resisted the urge to close her eyes or pinch the bridge of her nose, or both. This wasn’t just about her and her resistance to talking about Islamabad. “Charlie...”

“What the hell are you waiting for?” he demanded.

Mac felt the panic welling up in her throat. She knew Charlie could see it on her face when his expression turned sympathetic.

“You know, I asked him the same question and got a very similar reaction,” Charlie pointed out.

“Charlie, please...” Mac whispered. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything pushing her non-relationship with Will a bit too hard right now. They were closer. They were. But she still felt like a push from the wrong direction might just knock them off-balance.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I know I said I wouldn’t push. It’s just hard sometimes, seeing you both.”

Mac tried to explain. “Charlie...”

He was more than happy to take up the explanation himself. “Did it ever occur to you that it’s not that he doesn’t want you? It’s that he’s just as terrified of losing as you are?”

Mac bit her lip, wondering how she could possibly answer that. “Look...”

But didn’t seem to need an answer. After all, he was obviously convinced that he was right (which he was, at least on her side, but that was beside the point). “It’s like I said, you might have to be the one that takes the leap, kiddo. He’s been hurt before.”

Mac swallowed. Yeah Will had been hurt before. She was the one who’d done it. Charlie knew it, and now he was telling her to... Take the leap, take the leap, take the leap... leap... leap...

“And that wasn’t meant as a dig, just an observation,” Charlie said.

Mac didn’t drop her chin, though she wanted to. Because it should have been a dig, and in spite of everything, she still felt badly that it wasn’t. She held his gaze, but she didn’t say anything. 

“You two’ll figure it out,” Charlie promised her..

Mac felt a sudden wave of tenderness wash over her. She did adore this man, even if he also drove her crazy. “Thank you.”

“I’m not going to butt out of the other thing though,” Charlie assured her.

Mac huffed in laughter. After all, she was hardly going to object if her boss got involved in her _professional_ life. “I’m still weighing options, and when I decide it’ll be my decision.”

“Okay.”

She watched him leave. That meeting hadn’t exactly gone as she’d been expecting it to.

But it also hadn’t been as bad as it could have been.

She certainly had a lot to think about.

And maybe he was right. Maybe instead of pushing Will, maybe it was her turn to reach out.


	12. Chapter 12

Mac talked to Jim. She talked to friends who’d been over there with her. She talked to Will again. Hell, she even called her therapist. 

She talked about whether the experiences of a journalist were something the American public needed to know. (Conclusion: The experiences on their own? Probably not. In the context of a larger piece on the implications of the war? Possibly.)

She talked about whether it would be seen as self-serving. (Conclusion: Some people would always think things were self-serving. Will thought those people could go to hell, and he didn’t think it would be self-serving as long as they were careful not to make _her_ the story...)

She talked about whether she wanted to do it. Whether it would be good for her. (Conclusion: An argument with Will wherein he yelled that she’d already proven herself a million times over and she didn’t need to do a damn thing she didn’t want to. Also, a promise that he would be more than happy to tell that to anyone who tried to make her do otherwise. Which made her feel like she could do anything.)

She talked about the structure of the piece, the length, the potential storyline. She talked about which narratives her input would advance, and which ones they’d bog down.

Mac felt like she talked until she was talked out. 

In the end, she told Charlie that she would consider contributing to the segment, but only if it was part of a piece on various broadcasters’ experiences, Jim included. And she made no promises until the format was finalized.

Charlie nodded and told her they’d discuss things more next week.

Mac nearly rolled her eyes at the thought of more talk, but she left Charlie’s office gracefully. 

She had a show to produce after all.

And then Leona Lansing’s party was the next night.

The whole newsroom was buzzing about it. Most of the male staff were lamenting about what to wear. Mac was fairly certain that people had tried to convince Neal that it was black-tie, and he needed to rent at tuxedo. Someone (and Mac had her suspicions as to who) had finally taken pity on the poor guy (to Don’s disappointment) and told him that a tuxedo was acceptable but not required. Mac was expecting to see most of them show up in suits. The women were all talking dresses, colours and designers, and plans for getting ready. 

Mac was guessing no one wanted to arrive alone.

Not that she blamed them for that. She and Sloan were going together, not because either of them was afraid to walk into a ballroom alone, but because it was nicer to have a friend with you when you did it. Plus it meant an excuse to open a bottle of wine before you even arrived.

Really, going with a girlfriend was, in many ways, easier than trying to figure out a date.

Mac wondered if Will was going with anyone.

Not that he couldn’t bring someone with him. He could. And there was nothing she could say about it.

The thought made Mac scowl and want to kick something. She didn’t obviously. The closest thing was the wall, and she wasn’t wearing the right shoes for it. No man was worth destroying a pair of fabulous black pumps that fit perfectly and made her legs look a mile long. (Okay, maybe Will was, just not... like this.)

It bothered her though. 

It bothered her that she couldn’t say anything about Will bringing a date to the party for Charlie. It _really_ bothered her. And not in the way that the women he’d paraded through the newsroom in the past had, not even in the way Nina Howard had. Back then, Mac hadn’t had the relationship with Will that she did now.

Not that Mackenzie would be able to define exactly what that relationship was. 

It certainly wasn’t anything official, or exclusive, or... or... permanent.

They were close, so close. They were colleagues, friends, a million other things. But they were nothing specific, nothing solid. Not quite. Not yet.

Or maybe not ever.

She’d thought maybe that’s what they were moving towards, after they’d spent over four hours on her couch talking and trying to figure their shit out. But since then, especially when she was alone, she couldn’t stop second guessing.

Just about everything.

Maybe Will did just want to be close friends.

On the other hand, if forgiveness was on the table, then maybe there was the possibility that... 

Mac ducked into the safety of her office and shut her eyes for a moment, remembering the moment only days earlier, the one that her brain seemed perfectly content to play back on loop. 

_I’ll guess I’ll forgive her.  
_  
She was holding onto those few little words like a lifeline as she tried to navigate their relationship.

Because she really didn’t know where they’d end up.

She just knew that if Will McAvoy showed up at the party Leona Lansing was throwing for Charlie Skinner with a date, she’d die a little on the inside. (Okay, more than a little. She’d be lucky to make it through the night. Both of them would.)

It wasn’t exactly something she could ask him about. Okay, she could ask him about it. To be perfectly truthful, she already _had_.

Multiple times.

The jerk had just shrugged and evaded the question with a little smile each and every time before turning the conversation back to work. And it was the god damned smile that was doing crazy things to her stomach because the smile seemed to know exactly why she was asking and... and the worst part?

All she could think about was how good he looked when he smiled.

Still, Mac was just about desperate to know if Will was bringing a date.

He’d known she was planning on going with Sloan (that was how discussing dates to Leona’s party had come up in the first place). Mac wasn’t sure how he’d heard, probably from Sloan herself, but Will had already known her plans for the party before she’d told him.

Which made her curious.

Had he been planning on asking her to go with him?

Maybe not even as a date necessarily. Maybe just as a “Neither of us are seeing anyone right now. And I apparently don’t hate you anymore, so why don’t we head over to this shindig together” type thing. He could have even come with her and Sloan. She’d _offered_. 

But _no_.

Will had just smiled ( _again_ ), told her Sloan had already invited him, and that he’d let them have their fun. Apparently he’d also heard pedicures were part of the plan (which they _were_ , but he didn’t need to be there for that part), and he’d see the two of them at the party.

And then he’d refused to tell her if he was planning on bringing anyone.

 _If_ Will had been planning on asking _her,_ and now he brought someone else because Mac had already agreed to _Sloan’s_ suggestion that the two of them spend the day the spa before going to the party...

Mac gritted her teeth and stalked to her desk, the urge to kick something rising again. She settled for slamming her notebook down violently.

But he probably hadn’t been going to ask her. Almost certainly really. There was no reason to...

Mac dropped her head to her hands, glad that she was in her own office.

She was about thirty seconds from going ‘round the bend.

Pulling herself together, Mac turned her mind back to her show.

There was absolutely no reason to think that Will had another woman in his life right now (though she couldn’t rule it out, she didn’t spend _every_ evening with him). 

Will almost never brought a date to work functions. It was reasonably unlikely that he’d start tomorrow.

Trying to take comfort in that, Mackenzie stood up to get back to work. Squaring her shoulders, she went in search of her graphics team.

Because if Will did start bringing dates to work functions tomorrow, maybe she _would_ sacrifice her heels for the cause. 

By burying the stilettos deep into his thighs.

And that was if he was lucky.

* * *

“Will’s not going to know what hit him,” Sloan said as the car pulled up to the venue.

“Hmm?” Mac asked, trying to ignore her sudden (and completely ridiculous) nerves. A sizeable chunk of the people in that room would be people she saw almost every day. And the ones that weren’t, well, Mac had never had a problem charming strangers at a party.

Sloan was grinning at her. “You look amazing, Kenzie,” the economist said. Mac knew she looked good. She was wearing a new dress, a dark blue cocktail dress with the faintest hints of silver running through it that fell just above her knees. Her hair tied back in an elegant knot, and she’d found some truly fabulous silver heels.

She smiled back at her friend. “So do you,” she assured Sloan, who’d chosen a dress in a deep red. “I’m looking forward to seeing Don’s face,” she teased.

Sloan blushed, but didn’t falter. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I thought the subject was how fabulous we looked,” Mac replied, as she allowed herself to be handed out of the car by the hotel valet.

“No,” Sloan said with a shake of her head. “Well, partly. But also about Will’s reaction to our fabulousness, mostly yours.”

“Will isn’t going to have a reaction to our fabulousness,” Mac countered. That much at least was true. Will McAvoy was way too controlled for that. If he had a reaction, it’d be internal, or very subtle. Anything more than an eyebrow raise and a ‘You two look lovely’ wouldn’t happen in the ballroom. Maybe in private, but even then there were no guarantees.

“I think you underestimate those shoes,” Sloan told her. “Not to mention the woman wearing them.”

Mac laughed. “We’ll see,” she said. Mac told herself she didn’t care if there was no reaction, just as long as he was alone.

“Yes, we will,” Sloan murmured as they walked inside the hotel. Leona had rented the ballroom and a couple of adjoining rooms for the event. “Wow, this place is gorgeous.”

“Did you expect anything less with Leona in charge?” Mac asked her. It was beautiful. The foyer to the ballroom was mostly open, full of muted colours and elegant (and probably sinfully expensive) flowers. 

“No,” Sloan admitted. “Still.”

“Still,” Mac agreed, eyeing the arrangement of orchids to her right. “It is beautiful.”

“You really don’t think Will will notice?” Sloan asked.

Mac hadn’t exactly said that, but she wasn’t going to make the distinction out loud. Will might notice (she hoped he did), but she doubted it. And even if he did, she suspected Sloan would be disappointed by his reaction. Will wasn’t exactly demonstrative. She tried to explain. “I’m saying, he’s not going to turn, and our eyes aren’t going to meet across the room, and then he’s not going to trip and fall down the stairs in a desperate attempt to get to me, like you’re picturing.” Mac laughed at the expression on Sloan’s face, which was telling her she’d come pretty near the truth with her guess. “I think you need to lay off the romantic comedies for a while, Sloan.”

“Maybe,” Sloan grumbled. She looked like she was going to say more when they were interrupted. 

“Wow!”

Mac turned to see Don eyeing Sloan with no small amount of admiration. She almost laughed again. It seemed Don didn’t have Will’s ability at concealment, not that she was surprised.

Don was walking towards them. Mac wondered if maybe he’d been waiting. He almost had to have been, since they had yet to step inside the ballroom. He was obviously trying not to stare at Sloan. “You ladies look lovely,” he said with a charming grin. One that reminded Mac of just how much she liked him, when he wasn’t allying himself with the dark side (okay, usually she liked him even then, but she’d never tell him that).

“Thanks,” Sloan said quickly, her poker face miles better than his. “You clean up nice.”

Don preened, obviously proud of his tux. “Even managed to tie the tie,” he boasted, gesturing to his bowtie.

Mac laughed. “Why do all men seem to think that is such a mark of accomplishment?”

“You try tying one,” Don muttered.

“I have, more than once,” Mac assured him. “But never mind, you look good.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And unlike almost everyone else’s from the newsroom, my tie isn’t a clip on.”

Mac perked up. “They did wear tuxes?” she asked, surprised.

Don smiled. “Yeah, almost everyone. Even though Will told Neal that he didn’t have to rent one. Guess he, Jim, Gary and Martin decided to anyway.”

Mac beamed. She couldn’t wait to see them.

Don laughed. “Can I escort you ladies into the ballroom?”

And then to Mac’s surprise, Don held out an arm to both of them. As she took it, she was reminded of how good a guy he really was. And she wished he didn’t hide it quite so much. Though, he hadn’t been lately. This was why Sloan was so much better for him than Maggie had been.

Not that Mac had any intention of getting involved. Not tonight at least.

Tonight she had enough problems of her own.

Once they arrived in the ballroom, Mac excused herself, thanking Don for the escort (and more than aware that at this point three would become a crowd – she wasn’t going to meddle, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t _facilitate_ ). She made Charlie her excuse, saying she needed to congratulate him at his own party.

The two smitten ACN employees barely paid her any mind. 

(Mac made a mental note to point out to Sloan later that Don’s reaction to their arrival had been more notable than Will’s. Not that she’d seen Will yet, but she could only assume.)

Mac scanned the ballroom for her boss. 

Although, if Will happened to cross into her line of sight, she wouldn’t be particularly upset...

(Unless he had a leggy blonde on his arm.)

Shaking her head and telling herself she was being paranoid, Mac continued searching the room looking for either of her targets. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard a familiar voice.

“Mackenzie Morgan McHale! Did you ever ask your parents if they considered another letter of the alphabet?”

Mac turned with a smile. “Charlie! If it isn’t the man of the hour!” She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. “Congratulations on forty years.”

“You already said that,” he reminded her, referencing the newsroom’s earlier party.

She shrugged. “Then I’ll say it again.”

He nodded. Then he looked at her hands. “You don’t have a drink. You need one.”

“I just got here,” she told him, with a giggle. “I came to find you first. I’ll get one in a minute.”

“Well, I’m a lucky man to be a priority of such a beautiful woman,” he teased. 

Mac found herself relaxing. Charlie could have that effect. “It’s all thanks to your charm. Must be the bowtie.”

He smiled. “You look lovely, Mackenzie.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Should Nancy be worried?” she with a grin. Everyone knew that Charlie Skinner absolutely adored his wife, that he always had, and that the feeling was mutual. 

Charlie shook his head. “No, but Will should.”

Mackenzie just raised her eyebrows. “Charlie…”

He smiled at her. “I told you, I know what you’re up to Ms. McHale. And if he sees you in that dress and doesn’t… Well, let’s just say, even he’s not that stupid. At least I sincerely hope he’s not.”

“He’s not stupid,” Mac said softly. Then she tried to change the subject, at least slightly. “Is he even here yet?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows for a moment. Then he smirked. “He didn’t tell you?” he asked.

Mackenzie frowned, wondering what Charlie was talking about.

Whatever it was, he was obviously finding it amusing. She watched him smirk. “Interesting. Trying to be mysterious, I’d imagine. Maybe he’s smarter than I thought. At least a little.”

Before Mac could demand to know what he was talking about, she felt a hand on her arm and another familiar voice.

“You’re here.”

“That’s my cue,” Charlie said, sliding back into the crowd. “Enjoy your evening, Mackenzie. Come say hello to Nancy later. She’d love to see you.”

Mac spun, helped by the arm on her elbow, to find Will in front of her.

“You’re here,” he said again, sounding unbelievably relieved.

Mac was sure her confusion showed on her face. She was glad he was glad to see her, but he’d known she was coming, so she didn’t quite understand his reaction.

“I’m being followed,” he explained gravely.

That revelation just confused Mac even more. “What?”

“More like stalked actually,” Will added, sounding a little stressed out.

Mac still had no idea what he was talking about. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” he assured her. “By Tina Taylor Thompson, or whatever her name is.”

Mac’s confused frown deepened.

Will gestured over his shoulder where a woman was indeed slowly making her way towards them.  
Mac burst into laughter. “You mean Tanya Taylor-Treadwell?”

“I was close,” Will muttered, watching the woman’s approach with something akin to horror.

Mac noted that Tanya had been delayed in her journey by another dayside employee, before turning back to Will. “You were not close.”

“I was,” he insisted.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You got one out of three names.”

“You knew who I meant,” Will countered.

Mac raised her eyebrows. “Only because I can see the woman in question.”

Will didn’t seem in the least bit put out by her disapproval (not that Mac had expected him to be). “I learned the names of our staff,” he reminded her. “Isn’t that enough? I can’t possibly be expected to learn the name of every perky woman dayside puts on the air.”

Secretly Mac agreed with his assessment, though she didn’t tell him that. “I’ve heard she’s not a bad meteorologist.”

Will turned back to watch her progress through the crowd. “She’s certainly persistent; I’ll say that for her.”

“And what does she want?” Mac asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Will replied. “I’ve mostly been avoiding her. Something about expanding her responsibilities. I think she’s hoping to get into the evening work. I’ve been trying not to stick around long enough to find out any more.”

Mac realized she was smiling again. “Ah.”

“Yeah, and she’s on her way,” Will said, a hint of genuine panic creeping into his voice.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Mac demanded. “I hope you don’t think that _I’m_ going to listen to her pitch, because one, I don’t think that’s going to cut it with her given what she’s probably actually after, and two, if you think I’m going to agree...”

“Actually, I want you to dance with me,” Will said quickly, his hand tightening on her arm.

Mac stiffened. She glanced to the other side of the room where several people were indeed dancing (she could see Charlie and his wife on the floor). She turned back towards Will. “Okay,” she breathed out.

He seemed relieved by her acceptance.

She let him lead her to the dance floor. She wasn’t stupid enough to turn down a waltz from a handsome man in a gorgeous tuxedo (not that he was bragging about it). They paused to say hello to Charlie and Nancy on her way past; Mac promised Charlie’s wife she’d talk to her later.

The Will pulled her into his arms.

“They’re such a lovely couple,” Mac murmured as she let herself relax against him as they found their rhythm, trying to ignore how good it felt to be this close to him, and trying even harder to ignore the warmth from his arm, which seemed to seep right through her dress..

“It’s enough to make anyone jealous,” Will agreed, sliding his hand slightly farther along her back. Mac glanced up at him, to see him watching Charlie and his wife almost wistfully. She wondered what he was thinking.

Before she could say anything, he was looking down at her again, a completely different expression on his face, this one friendly, but revealing little. “I see you and Sloan arrived fashionably late.”

Mac shrugged. “We got here before the speeches.”

“I think Don was getting impatient,” Will murmured

She laughed. “So he _was_ waiting then? I wondered about that when he popped up as soon as we walked through the door.”

“He was waiting, and doing a terrible job of concealing it,” Will confirmed.

“Why should he conceal it?” Mac asked, wondering if there’d been another man waiting, one who’d done a slightly better job of hiding that fact.

Will shrugged. “I don’t know, fear?”

“Of what?” Mac asked. “Rejection? Sloan was hardly going to do that.”

“He didn’t know that,” Will assured her. “Men almost never do.”

Mac’s breath caught. Will had to know though, had to know that she’d never...

Will continued. “Of course, maybe he just wanted to escape the teasing.”

“I don’t suppose you know who was teasing him?” Mac asked, tilting her head up hopefully.

Will chuckled. “No idea,” he said lightly, though they both knew he’d almost certainly been involved.

“Spoilsport,” Mac murmured.

Will just continued his story. “Anyway, Don got here before us, and when we arrived Charlie started giving him romantic advice. So fleeing to lurk in the entranceway might have been part self-defence on Don’s part.”

Mac felt her heart thud. “You came with Charlie?” she asked, sure that the happiness (and relief) were just streaming out of her.

If Will noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Mmhm. Charlie and Nancy. His daughter and her husband couldn’t make it; it’s a long way to come for them. And I thought Charlie deserved a bit of an entourage on his broadcasting anniversary.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her eyes shining. Why hadn’t he told her? She would have given anything to have that information a few days earlier. It would have saved her a lot of unnecessary panic.

Will played dumb. “Tell you what?”

She tipped her head back and raised an eyebrow at him.

He just smiled that same maddening half smile of his.

It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. It shouldn’t have made her knees feel a little wobbly and her heart skitter in her chest. It shouldn’t have made her want to kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Until he had no more control left.

Because hers might already have been fraying.

Mac tried to pull herself together. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming with Charlie?” she asked again. “I asked you if you were coming with anyone.”

He seemed to realize she wasn’t going to let it go. “I liked hearing you ask,” he said softly.

Mac felt like she was walking on air. She wasn’t even sure if her feet were touching the ground anymore. He’d wanted her to care about his dating habits? Good. Because she did. God, did she. “Oh,” she whispered.

He smiled that stupid smile at her again, and Mac’s head started spinning.

And Will in his tuxedo leading her in a flawless waltz was decidedly not helping. “You look beautiful by the way,” he murmured softly, leaning in towards her.

Mac bit her lip. “Thank you. So do you,” she said with a little giggle.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

Mac continued to grin. Beautiful wasn’t quite the right word. Sexy as hell would be better. He’d been driving her crazy lately, even just at the office. But now... God the man could wear a tux. Will wearing a tuxedo and being almost unbearably charming shouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t going to kiss her senseless. It just shouldn’t. It was spectacularly unfair, really. If he’d had anything at all to do with the party, she’d have suspected him of setting the dress code, just to drive her crazy.

She tilted her head up to him, wondering if there was a chance that Will really _was_ trying to drive her crazy. Charlie seemed to think so... Of course, Charlie was also a hopeless romantic, and an optimist.

But he also wasn’t an idiot.

It made it hard to remind herself that she wasn’t 100% sure where he stood, and that throwing herself at him might not be the best idea.

But maybe it also wasn’t the worst.

She swore dancing with a tuxedo-wearing-Will was enough to short-circuit her brain. He just looked so perfect, from his shoes to his carefully brushed hair. Even his bowtie wasn’t a clip on. She knew it wasn’t. He hated them, and Charlie would have been absolutely horrified. 

Mac wanted to untie it. 

She wanted to untie it and muss him up a bit. She wanted to untie his tie and muss up his hair and take all sorts of liberties with the man in front of her. And she wanted to make sure every other woman in the room noticed and acknowledged that he was _hers_ , and that he was taken.

Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could deal with this uncertainty.

“Mac?” Will said after a moment.

She realized she’d probably spaced out on him for a second. Luckily he was used to it, and was still smiling at her. “Sorry,” she said. “You look good, Billy.”

The look in his eyes had her working to catch her breath. His hand shifted slightly lower on her back (possessively, a little voice in a dark corner of her brain whispered).

She swallowed. “So what are you going to do about Tanya Taylor-Treadwell?”

He shrugged, looking suddenly unconcerned about the woman from dayside. “I don’t know. I was using this dance to buy time. Hide?”

“Billy!”

“What?” he asked innocently.

Mac wasn’t fooled. “You can’t _hide._ ”

He continued to play dumb, to goad her he was sure. “Why not?”

Unfortunately, Mac reacted to goading, each and every time. She always had, and he knew it. “For one, you’re fairly recognizable. For another, it’s childish, even for you.” Then inspiration struck, “Maybe I can find Sloan to dance with you next. She won’t mind.”

“Oh, _thanks_.” Will said dryly.

Mac resisted the urge to poke him. He was lucky he was so good a dancer that she didn’t want to upset their rhythm. “That’s not what I meant!”

Will raised an eyebrow curiously. “It won’t interfere with your plan to get Don to realize he’s in love with her?”

Mac hid her grin. She’d always rather suspected that Will was a silent ally in that particular plan. At least, he was _now._ “I have no such plan. Don _already_ knows he’s in love with her. He just hasn’t done anything about it yet.”

“Ah.”

Mac ignored his tone, continuing blithely with her explanation. “And one dance won’t interfere.”

 

“Right.” 

Will sounded unenthusiastic, but Mac knew him too well to fall for his tone. “Then we can find Maggie,” she told him cheerfully.

“Mac…” This time she thought his groan might be slightly genuine, but she decided she didn’t care. He’d let her worry for the better part of a week that he might actually bring a _date.  
_  
“I’m pretty sure both Tess and Kendra said they were coming,” she told him in a reassuring tone.

She was pretty sure he was trying not to laugh now. “Mac, you aren’t honestly going to line up the female members of the newsroom to dance with me.”

“Don’t be silly,” she told him in a tone that implied she he was being an idiot. “Not just the newsroom. I’m sure Charlie’s wife would be more than happy to help.”

His eyes were definitely laughing with her now. Mac counted it as a victory. “I’m sure she would. But you aren’t actually going to…”

“I think we both know that I will,” Mac interrupted.

Will conceded that point. “Yeah.”

Mac nodded firmly. “Okay, so…”

“No,” he said firmly (though Mac could definitely hear the laughter in his tone now). “ _Stop._ It’s not necessary, and it’s ridiculous. I can take care of myself.”

Her grin was triumphant. “So then what was…?”

“I just didn’t feel like dealing with her,” he told her.

“Ah,” she said her tone superior. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to push the right buttons.

She knew she’d succeeded when he sighed. “Plus, I wanted to say hello.”

Mac pushed, just a little. Because she wanted to hear him say it. “You sounded pretty desperate to me.”

He glanced away. “You took longer to get here than I was expecting.”

Mac couldn’t help smiling. Sometimes she forgot how charming he could be, when he put his mind to it. “Shut up and dance with me, Billy,” she whispered softly.

She thought she caught the ghost of a smile as he pulled her slightly closer.

And she wondered if the fact that Will had shot to her side the second she entered the ballroom might be enough to convince every woman in the place he was already spoken for.

Hope was no longer a spring, but a fucking inferno.

And screw getting him to dance with Sloan afterwards. She was going to keep him with her as long as she could.


	13. Chapter 13

There was something to be said about watching people when they didn’t know you were watching.

It may not have been polite, but it also wasn’t always the disaster that novels would have you believe.

After Mac had finished her dance with Will... Okay, it might have been two dances, but who was counting? No one other than her, that was certain. 

Well, almost certain.

Anyway, after the two of them had finished dancing, they’d found Nancy and Charlie again and settled in for a chat.

Mac hadn’t seen Nancy Skinner in years, and she’d always liked the woman, so she’d appreciated the chance to catch up. Then she’d insisted they mix with the room a little, ignoring Will’s grumbles.

She’d promised him they’d start with the staff to pacify him.

First she’d found the guys, and congratulated them (but especially Neal) on their tuxes, even if she hadn’t mentioned the clip-on bowties.

(Will had. The word ‘amateurs’ might have been used. More than once. Particularly as Don and Sloan chose that moment to join them.)

Mac had left when things started devolving into bickering, choosing instead to find Maggie and tell her that her dress was lovely.

She’d slowly made her way through the newsroom staff before stopping to talk to some of the other people from the network, and the other guests.

Somewhere along the way she’d lost Will, but she wasn’t worried.

She knew he’d find her again eventually.

And if he didn’t, she’d find him.

Eventually, she’d needed a break from the ballroom. Not just from the heat, but from the crowds. She’d just wanted a moment to herself. 

Which was why she was standing on one of the (many) balconies that connected to the venue. She’d picked one of the ones that was a little further out of the way, curving around the corner of the ballroom so that she could watch the room without being directly visible herself.

Right now she was watching Jim and Neil make Maggie laugh.

It was enough to make Mac want to laugh herself.

She hadn’t seen Maggie look that happy (that light) in months. Even if her hair still wasn’t blonde (and maybe it never would be again), she no longer looked like the world was weighing her down.

Mac hoped her plan to bring the newsroom closer had contributed to that, even just a little.

Maybe it had.

And maybe...

Her reverie was broken by a voice behind her.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

She smiled, pleased to have been proven right. “Did you?” she asked, turning to greet him.

Will nodded. “I might have checked a few of the other balconies first though. Do you know how many there are?”

“I heard a dozen,” Mac replied. She’d overheard it as she’d made her way out here. She wasn’t sure it was true, but it sounded good.

Will seemed to accept the figure. “I didn’t check that many.”

“Good,” she murmured, wondering why they were even talking about this.

Then he was standing beside her (still ridiculously handsome) watching the staff, and Mac decided she didn’t care what they talked about.

“Spying?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just watching.”

For once, he didn’t demand to know what the difference was, didn’t pick the fight. “They look happy,” he said eventually.

For some reason, Mac felt tears prick in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back. “I was just thinking exactly the same thing.”

“You know a lot of that’s you,” he told her.

Mac shook her head. She couldn’t take all of the credit. Maybe some (maybe a little), but not all. “I think you helped too, and they did a lot.”

“But you’re the captain, Mac,” Will told her, reaching out to brush his hand against hers. “You run the ship.”

She shook her head again. “ _You_ run the ship. I’m first mate.”

“Maybe we run the ship together?” Will asked softly.

She turned towards him then, saw how serious he was. “I can live with that,” she told him.

“Either way,” he told her. “You did good. They’re good newsmen... newswomen... news-people?”

She laughed. “Yeah, they’re good news-people.”

“They really are having a good time,” Will observed, watching as Maggie started playfully chasing Neal around Jim.

“Mmhm,” Mac agreed.

“So why are you out here all by yourself then?” Will asked.

She glanced at him again . “I’m not by myself.”

He rolled his eyes. “Before I came out here,” he clarified.

Maybe I was waiting for you, Mac thought to herself. Maybe I was hoping you’d join me. But she said, “Just wanted to get some air.”

“You’d tell me if something’s wrong?” he asked tentatively.

She turned towards him fully then, smiling. “Nothing’s wrong, Will,” she assured him firmly. “I really just needed a bit of quiet.”

“Okay.”

“Honestly, this from the man who spends most parties holed up in his office,” she grumbled.

Will looked offended. “When was the last time I did that?” he demanded.

Mac paused, realizing that it had been some time ago. Her smile grew. “You’re right; you have been less reclusive lately.”

“I could hardly help it,” he grumbled. “The way you’ve been lately. On some sort of organization kick...”

“What’s wrong with that?” Mac demanded. “Look how well it turned out!” she said gesturing to the laughing group in the ballroom.

Will turned back. “I guess the staff’s been getting closer lately. All those types of things you like, suggest... potlucks, meeting at the bar for drinks...” He turned to stare at her.

Mac tried very hard not to fidget. “I happen to think it’s good for the working environment if we actually enjoy each other’s company in the newsroom.”

“It was all for the newsroom,” Will said slowly.

Mac wondered why they were back to this all of a sudden. She thought they’d already settled this. She swallowed and took a risk. “You know it wasn’t, Will.”

He held her gaze, and Mac felt her heart rate increase. “What else was it for?”

“Will...” she murmured, irritated by the slight waver in her voice. No one else would have even picked up on it, but Will noticed things. And all of his attention was focused on her. And it was like he was repeating this conversation deliberately, like he trying to... Like he was provoking... She shivered.

The bastard actually _smirked._ “Cold?”

“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t stand it if he suggested going back inside right now. She absolutely would not be able to stand it. And he was confusing her in his current mood, whatever the hell it was.

Instead of suggesting they head back inside where it was warmer, Will smiled at her slowly, and shrugged out of his jacket. She tilted her head in protest. “Oh, that’s not...”

But he was already draping it over her shoulders, sliding his hands almost unbearably slowly down her arms to tuck it around her. 

Mac shivered again, tilting her head up to face him

She could see the triumph in his eyes.

“You’ve been planning things?” he repeated.

Mac didn’t see any point in denying it. She was fairly certain he didn’t want her to. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asked slowly.

Mac closed her eyes, her brain reminding her of Charlie’s opinion. Maybe it was time to take the leap. To actually _talk_ to him about what she... “I just... I wanted you to be happy,” she whispered, so quietly she wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to hear her. “I didn’t know if I could make you happy, or even happier, but still. I just wanted to do something... Sometimes you seem sad.”

“So do you,” Will murmured from behind her.

That observation surprised her. “Will?”

She felt him walk around to stand directly in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and found his boring into her intently. “You don’t think I want to be happy? That I want _you_ to be happy.”

Mac had no idea how he’d gotten _there_. She shook her head violently. “No, I do. I just think things get complicated in that big brain of yours.”

To her relief, that made him smile softly. “You’re not so simple yourself, Dulcinea.”

Mac frowned. After all, she’d spent most of her life being told she had the worst poker face in the world. Often by him. “I’m an open book.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “But you tell a story the person reading has to pay attention to each and every word to understand.”

Her breath caught. “You never seemed to have much of a problem with that,” she said, her voice low. He’d always understood her better than anyone else. Even if they sucked at actually communicating a lot of the time. 

And anyway, she had to believe they were getting better.

Something his next words only confirmed. “I’ve always liked getting lost in a good book.”

Mac swallowed, shifting forward. “Like those big mystery novels of yours?”

She watched a corner of his mouth, quirk up. “Except without the murder.”

Mac was almost surprised he hadn’t accused her of killing their relationship (metaphorically of course). And then she reminded herself that he wasn’t doing that anymore, and the thought warmed her almost more than his jacket on her shoulders. “Hmm.”

“Do things always have to be so complicated?” Will asked eventually, when she didn’t speak.

She could only answer truthfully. “I really hope not.”

He nodded. “Thank you for everything,” he murmured, before kissing her on the temple.

“Will...” she whispered.

“I like spending time with you, Mackenzie,” he told her. “I really like it.”

“I just wanted to give you something,” she replied desperately. “I wanted you to be less lonely. I wanted to show you, to try to make you see that... It’s not just me, Billy. _It’s not_. They all love you too. And you’re good with them. You’re good with Neal and Maggie and Sloan. Sloan who thinks you’re a big brother... You know...” she swallowed. “Don’t you?”

He reached out and grabbed her elbow again, squeezing tightly, his eyes telling her more than anything he could have said.

He had such nice eyes.

She shut her own, needing a minute. It was one thing to say you were going to take a risk, another to be right in the middle of it. She was going to see it through – she needed to see it through – but she was still shaking a little.

To her surprise, it was Will who broke the silence first. “Hey Mac?”

“Yeah?” she whispered, opening her eyes.

He paused. “This little plan of yours, to...”

“Help you make friends?” she suggested, trying to find a little levity.

She could tell Will appreciated it, even as he pretended to look annoyed. “Hey!”

So she softened her statement. “Create a community then.”

He nodded his agreement. “Did you ever see yourself as part of it?”

She frowned, not really understanding the question. “Of course. I’m your EP.”

“Of course,” Will agreed, deflating a little.

“And I thought we just decided we were both leading this little ship,” she added, trying to work her way towards what needed to be said.

He nodded warily.

And Mac knew she’d have to push just a little farther. “I like to think I’m your friend.”

“You know you are,” he whispered softly.

Mac smiled. She hadn’t known, not until very recently. And she was still getting used to how wonderful that was. “I like to think that I belong.”

He just watched her.

She swallowed, knowing they were approaching the point of no return. “Will?”

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“I think I’m pretty central.” She was. She had to be. They both did. She’d wanted to put him at the centre, but they were both there now. They both...

“Yeah,” he breathed again.

Mac looked up at him, gathering her courage. “I’m the mastermind.”

That made him smirk again. Then his expression turned serious. “And so you can take it away?”

She shook her head violently, resisting the urge to hit him for even thinking it. “I would never do that.”

He turned solemn. “I know.”

“Even if I could,” she assured him.

“You could.” He didn’t sound defeated, just matter of fact.

Still, Mac didn’t like it. “I don’t think so.”

“You would if you left,” Will suggested tentatively.

She frowned, displeased. Was that what he thought? Was that what he was worried about? After they’d survived so much? After all the ratings hits, and Genoa, and Maggie and... Like hell was she going anywhere! “Why would I leave now, after all that’s happened?”

Will grabbed both of her hands. “How central are you?”

The answer she desperately wanted to give clogged in her throat. So she answered with another question. “How central do you want me to be?”

But Will refused to be pushed into a corner. “How central do you want to be?”

Mac hesitated, her guilt surfacing before she could help it. “I don’t know if that’s my decision or...”

Luckily, Will cut off that line of thinking. “No! Forget all the crap. Cards on the table. How central do you want to be, Mackenzie?”

She wasn’t sure why she had to go first, but maybe one of them had to. And maybe, maybe he would never be able to start it. Maybe that was half the problem. Which just left her. “You know the answer to that.”

“ _Mac_...” He sounded almost pained.

She watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing when she saw his doubt. She’d always assumed that she couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d tried. How could he not... “You do, _don’t you?_ ”

“You said you’d moved on,” he whispered.

She stared at him, too shocked to be irritated. _“When?”_  
  
“When you were dating Wade,” he mumbled.

Mac decided that one advantage to overwhelming shock was that it made it difficult to be terrified. “That was _years_ ago!” she all but yelled.

Will glanced down, trying to defend himself. “All the more reason to...”

But Mac was having none of it. He wasn’t getting out of it _that_ easily. “And you were dating anything and everything in a skirt! And Nina Howard!”

His head shot up and she saw fire in his eyes. Good. 

“Yes!” he snapped. “Because I was _trying_ to move on. And then you didn’t answer my message...”

She continued to stare. “I didn’t get it! And then _you_ wouldn’t tell me what it said!” She’d found out later, but not from him. And she really wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything at this point. 

“I know!” Will practically growled.

“God Will!” she snapped.

“How central do you want to be, Mackenzie?” he practically roared at her, remembering to keep his voice down (at least a little) at the last second.

“As central as you’ll let me!” she heaved back at him. The shock of the admission froze her in place the second the words were out of her mouth. She’d always expected to have to take the first step, but she’d also expected to be able to work up to it, and not just toss the words out in an argument. Maybe she should have known better.

Will was similarly stunned. “What?” he said eventually.

Mac took a breath and finally decided to just jump. Anyway, it wasn’t like she could feel worse about this if it didn’t work out, if he still hated her, if... She shook her head and ploughed on. McHales were never cowards, after all. “I’ve never moved on, Will,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Not really. Maybe I tried, because I thought... I figured it was hopeless, or healthier, or whatever. But...” 

She swallowed, before continuing. “I’ve been in love with you forever. And I know that I... That... I know...” Mac tried to explain, tried to articulate all the thoughts in her head, the words flying around her brain. But they wouldn’t come out. She shook her head in frustration, but it didn’t help. Her frustration seemed to cut off any ability for speech, but she needed to tell him. This was the closest they’d been in months to finally... She couldn’t lose... 

Practically growling in frustration at her own deficiencies, Mackenzie flew across the balcony towards him and used her mouth for a different purpose, stretching up and kissing him. It’d been weeks, maybe months coming. She’d been contemplating throwing herself at him for weeks. She couldn’t hold herself back a second longer.

It was obvious that his initial reaction was shock.

Luckily his second was to grab her hips and pull her roughly against him. 

Mackenzie moaned in relief. She felt his jacket slide off her shoulders to the ground, but couldn’t have cared less. She ignored the fact that she still couldn’t form a coherent idea in her brain, closing her eyes and losing herself in the feel of him. 

Sometimes words were overrated anyway. 

She took her time in exploring him (who knew when she’d get another chance), feeling his hands tighten with every sweep of her tongue.

She half-hoped he’d leave bruises.

Or maybe just never let go.

Except that she felt him drag himself away from her after a minute or so. Too soon. Way too soon. She whimpered before she could stop herself. Back. She wanted him back. (Everything was so clear when he was against her.)

But he wouldn’t come. To her frustration, Will’s hands on her waist were holding her firmly at arm’s length.

She dropped her hands from where they’d been buried in his hair.

The pain of feeling Will physically push her away from him ripped through her with an all-consuming ache as terrible as she’d always known it would be. The cool night air hitting her felt like a slap after the warmth of his body against hers. For a moment, Mackenzie wasn’t even sure she was breathing. She felt broken. This was why she’d never dared take the risk before. Damn him and his handsome, tempting, tuxedo-wearing self. 

Then Mackenzie steeled herself, gathering together the pieces of her potentially shattered heart. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. This time, she was going to fight. This time, she was going to try, to talk. She raised her eyes from her toes and met his.

What she saw there knocked the breath from her lungs, and most of the pain went with it.

The expression in his eyes was… He hadn’t looked at her like that in _years._ Maybe he’d never looked at her like that.

His eyes were wide and surprised. But not angry and definitely not rejecting.

If anything they were... 

Longing.

And now that her eyes were open, Mackenzie could see that Will wasn’t actually _that_ far away. Still touching. And while he was holding her at arm’s length, his grip was still tight. She couldn’t push closer, but she was also suddenly certain that she wouldn’t have been able to pull away either. 

He wouldn’t let her leave. He didn’t want her to go.

She forced the panic down, swallowing bravely. She didn’t take her eyes off of his, reaching a hand back up to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

She saw the relief ripple through him. “You’re central,” he rasped out after a moment, his breath blowing hot against her cheek. “You’re right in the goddamn middle, Mackenzie.”

And then Mac didn’t mind so much that he’d practically wrenched his lips from hers only moments before. Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to stifle a sob.

His hands moved up to her shoulders, gripped them tight, almost shaking her. The desperation in his fingertips sent her heart galloping in her chest. “I mean it,” he whispered harshly. “I want... it’s always been _you_. I forget to be lonely when you’re... I want you near me. I want you close. I just... But I can’t... I need you close to me and not close to... anyone else...”

That was when Mac finally lost sight of his eyes burning through her; her tears overflowed, blurring her vision. She buried her face against his neck, nodding furiously. She felt both his hands slip down her shoulders to her back and wrapped one of her own around his waist, the other reaching up to cradle his neck. “Billy... _Yes._ ” she gasped, running her lips across his pulse point when the god damn words still wouldn’t come.

She felt his quick intake of breath against her chest before his arms tightened around her. And for one wonderful second of clarity, before her insecurities could rush in and take over, Mac felt like everything might be alright.

And then, when the insecurities did start threatening the edges of her brain (because they always did, because how could anything actually be _this_ good), and they reminded her that she’d already fucked this up, that she didn’t deserve him, that he’d never truly forgive her, and that she really was no good at this, she felt him tip her chin up to meet his. 

And he was kissing her. 

Not like before. Not because she’d surprised him. 

But deliberately, and definitely desperately. 

Mac stretched up onto the very tips of her toes and tangled her hand in his hair as she fought back with her lips. Fought for him, for the desire, the need, the love. Fought for what she wanted and fought against everything telling her it shouldn’t be hers. Fought the media, the doubts in his head, and the insecurities in her own.

A surge of joy ran through her when she realized she wasn’t the only one fighting. 

Will was meeting her; the fight was coming from both sides.

God, she’d always loved fighting with him.

She could feel it in the way his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, in the way his hand tangled in her hair, in the way the other pressed into the small of her back until she couldn’t possibly get any closer.

And she gave in to the fight.

When Will finally pulled back, his eyes wide, Mackenzie could see the shock in them now, plainly visible for all that he was usually better at schooling his expressions. She was sure his eyes were nothing to hers; the way her head was spinning, they’d probably tell him anything he wanted to know.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care about that. All she could concentrate on at the moment was breathing in and out. She thought she caught a ghost of a grin before pressure on the small of her back propelled her back towards him. Curling easily into his chest, Mac bit her lip, trying not to grin too foolishly when she felt his chin drop against the top of her head. 

She tilted her head up to brush her lips against his neck, pleased when it resulted in a stifled gasp and an answering kiss against her temple.

That was when she stopped trying to contain her smile.

“Right in the centre,” he muttered. “Without you it all feels fucking pointless anyway.”

She tilted her head up. “Without you it’s not our show.”

He smiled at her. And right then, right that second, Mac realized how much she’d missed his smile. The real one. The one that was just for her. “Billy...”

“Hm?” he asked, still smiling as he twirled a lock of her hair that had come loose around one of his fingers.

She felt the tears pricking in the corner of her eyes again and shook her head. She’d never find the words anyway.

His smile widened slightly and he stepped back slightly, taking her hand. “Come on. They’ll miss us at the party soon.”

She frowned in surprise. “We’re going back to the party?”

He smiled again, and her heart leapt. 

“Aren’t you the one who’s always advocating that I go to these things?” he murmured. “I thought we would,” he added when she didn’t answer. “For now.”

 _For now._ Mac decided she liked the sound of that. “And later?”

Will pretended to consider the request. “I guess we’ll have to figure something else out, won’t we?”

She smiled. “Guess we will.”

He threaded a hand in one of hers to lead her back inside. “Okay then.”

Mac found she had a suggestion. “My father gave me a bottle of twenty year old single malt scotch last Christmas. It’s still in my cupboard, waiting to be opened.”

He turned back. “I’ve got a few bottles of that Burgundy you like. Vintages from the last few years.”

Her favourite. Her quick intake of breath hissed in her throat. _The last few years? What?_ How long had he been buying them? Had he ever stopped? Had he secretly been hoping they’d be able to fix this all along? She swallowed, and tried to keep things light. “Bottles? Just how drunk are you trying to get me, Billy?”

“Says the woman who mentioned an unopened bottle of scotch,” he reminded her.

Mac blinked. “I wasn’t suggesting we drink it all at once.”

His eyes laughed. “Neither was I.”

“Why?”she whispered. Why did he have the wine? Why had he kept buying it? Why hadn’t he said anything?

Will went with the joke. “Well, alcohol poisoning for a start...”

“Will...”Mac warned.

His eyes turned serious. “It seemed like a good thing to have on hand.”

She bit her lip. “My favourite wine?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

The burst of joy welled up inside of her again. She was so happy right now, she could hardly bear it. She needed to get herself under control Particularly if they had to go back to the stupid party. _“Oh.”_  
  
“I couldn’t stop buying it,” he admitted desperately.

Mac just held his eyes for a moment. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered eventually, deciding that getting herself under control could wait. Right now she needed to explain. “I’ve missed you so much, Billy. Even when things were better, when I had you again. At least sometimes. We were spending all that time together. All that time, and I just wanted _more_.”

He stepped closer until he was practically touching her. “Come over for a drink later?”

She nodded. She had no intention of letting him get more than five feet away for the rest of the night. “When we feel like leaving.”

She saw the few remaining hints of anxiety drain from his face, and found herself vaguely annoyed that he still felt anxious. She could understand it though. After what had happened last time, she could understand that he might need reassurance. She had no problem giving it. She knew she’d probably need it herself. 

“Good,” Will murmured.

“We’ll do scotch another night,” she promised.

He smiled. “Yeah.”

As they walked back into the ballroom together (after retrieving Will’s jacket from the ground), Mac couldn’t help noticing with considerable satisfaction, that his hair was more than a little mussed.

Take that Tanya Taylor-Treadwell, she thought triumphantly.

* * *

A couple hours later found Mac curled up on the corner of his couch with a truly sensational glass of wine in one hand.

She’d originally been pleased when Will had dropped down next to her on the other end. 

Then she’d realized, Will’s couch was _big._ And that he was too far away.

So she’d been spending the last ten minutes trying to surreptitiously slide closer.

Something that Will was not exactly helping with.

In fact, he obviously found her subtle attempts to get close to him amusing. All the while managing to sit there looking all calm and in control, while she felt like any second now she’d start vibrating. Mac huffed in annoyance.

“Something wrong?” he asked lightly.

She felt like growling at him. Instead she shook her head and tried to explain sensibly that really, given that she’d only just gotten over the terror of telling him how she felt about him and what she wanted (and he’d reciprocated), that she didn’t think it was unreasonable for her to want to be closer to him. They probably needed to talk, and there were so many things that were easier to say when she was pressed up against him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences in her mind to explain any of that; instead, she got distracted and ended up admitting her own shortcomings. “I know I’m not always the best at communicating. I’ve been trying to be better. I swear I have. I want to talk to you, Billy. I swear I do...”

He reached over and grabbed her hand.

Mac swallowed and tired again. “It’s just... The words... they won’t...” She swallowed. “I feel like they’re just swirling around my head driving me crazy, things I should say. But I can’t make them come out. I can’t find them. I want to, but I _can’t_.”

Will watched her for a moment; Mac wondered what he’d make of her. To her utter shock, he reached a gentle arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

Mackenzie dropped her head against his shoulder and sighed in relief. Maybe it wasn’t just that being pressed up against him made the words easier so much as it made them unnecessary.

“Better?” he asked softly.

She nodded against his shoulder and wrapped her free arm around him. “Much.” 

Then she grinned softly. The whirling had stopped. She knew it would start again soon. But for just a moment, everything seemed simple. She angled her head to press a kiss to his chest, before trailing her lips up to his now open collar.

She felt his breathing catch and grinned wickedly. Payback could be a beautiful thing. “Something wrong?” she practically taunted, throwing his words back at him. That would teach him to tease her.

This time he all but dragged her into his lap.

Mac smiled triumphantly, sliding one leg over his until she was straddling his thighs. She felt one of his hands drop to her hips where her dress was bunching up. Then she tipped her glass back and drained it, knowing he was watching her throat.

She stretched up and placed her glass on the end table on the other side of him. Then she grabbed the glass from the hand not on her hip and put it beside hers. When she lowered herself back into his lap she was unsurprised to see his eyes glued to the neckline of her dress.

“Will,” she whispered.

His eyes flicked up to find hers immediately.

Mac smiled and decided to give in to a fantasy. She reached up and untied his bowtie, leaving it open, draped around his neck. 

“What do you think of the wine?” he asked, his eyes fluttering shut as she started running her fingers through his hair.

“You know I love it,” she whispered, running one of her thumbs over his lip.

Will opened his eyes to watch her for a moment.

Mac was just about to ask him what he was thinking when he reached a hand up into her hair and kissed her.

Thoroughly.

And then she couldn’t get close enough all over again.

And the right words finally came.

“Oh, I love you. God, I love you,” she whispered as he trailed his lips down her throat.

A second later she felt Will’s hands on her face, holding her slightly away from him. She almost frowned until she heard his voice.

“Say it again,” he ordered hoarsely.

Mackenzie opened her eyes to meet his, wide and staring back into hers.

The words were surprisingly easy to repeat. She dropped her forehead against his. Sitting where she was, things were suddenly clear, even if her voice did quiver a little. “I love you, Billy. It may have taken me a while to figure it out, but once I did... I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“Kenz...” he whispered.

And suddenly Mac felt the need to explain again. Or at least try to. “I just wanted you to be happy. That’s why I... I wanted to do something for you. To try and help. I thought if you realized how much everyone really liked you... I swear the plan didn’t start out selfish Will. I swear I wasn’t trying to trying to make you fall back in love with me. Not at first, at least...” She trailed off, not entirely sure if he’d even followed any of that. She wasn’t even sure why she’d said it. It had suddenly just seemed crucial that he _know._

Surprisingly, Will nodded. So maybe he had understood, or at least understood enough.

“And now?” he asked.

Mac scanned his eyes. Then she smiled slowly. “Now I’m going after what I want.”

He smiled, reaching a hand up to finally untie the knot most of her hair was still tied in (though Mac was sure enough of it had fallen out to make it look interesting). “Hmm.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, running a hand along his chest.

“I can’t fall back in love with you, you know,” he said conversationally as he ran a hand through her now untied hair, untangling it.

Even sitting pressed up against his chest, his words were a shock of cold to her system. “Right,” she muttered, glancing down. It would have been too much to expect, she supposed, that he would feel exactly the same way. Not after everything. But maybe...

Will continued on in the same easy tone as if she hadn’t said anything. “Because that would imply I’d ever fallen out of love with you in the first place.”

And then her eyes were on his again. She should have been angrier at him for teasing about that, she should have been furious. But the obvious sincerity in his voice made that impossible. _“Will...”_

And he was looking at her the way he had been on the balcony. Mac was sure that her emotions might eventually get the better of her. But she was determined to hold out a little while yet, at least until he’d finished speaking. “I’ve gotten used to having you around most of the time, Mac. You didn’t take that into account when you crafted this little plan of yours. That I’d get you back, even a little. And I did. And then as you kept going, I got you a little more. And then a little more. And I just... It was nice. So goddamn nice. And I realized it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.”

He took a deep breath. “I got so sick of the rest of it. I’m so sick of all the crap that came before being everything. I got so sick of being mad at you, and feeling like I should be mad at you. Because I’m not mad at you. I just want to be around you. I want to be with you. I want more. I know that’s not particularly romantic, but...I... I...”

He trailed off when she let out a sob. Turned out she wasn’t going to be able to keep a hold of her emotions for even another second. “You... You... You idiot!” She gasped out, hitting him in the chest and ignoring that he looked taken aback by her outburst. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She saw the shock on his face for a half a second before his arms were around her and he’d crushed her to him. “Really?” he whispered.

She laughed through her tears, and nodded. “Yes.”

She felt his head drop onto her shoulder. “Really?”

She laughed. “ _Oh yes_ , Billy.”

She felt his arms tighten around her even more. “Love you, Mackenzie,” he whispered against her ear.

And then Mac couldn’t speak. She turned into him and kissed him. “Okay,” she whispered against his lips.

He drew back to stare at her. _“Okay?”_

She nodded. “To all of it.”

She watched his eyes darken. “Mackenzie...”

“I want to be with you too, Will,” she whispered. “I can’t do halfway anymore. I’m in. I’m in if you are. God, even if you’re _not_ , I’m probably still in, because...”

Then, before she could continue, Will was kissing her again. 

Which was something Mackenzie didn’t think she’d ever be able to get enough of.

She was all talked out anyway, and the only thought her brain could summon up was _more_.

As she decided to use her fingers to make sure his hair was in complete and utter disarray, she felt one his hands reach up to find the zipper on her dress.

She smiled. 

And not just because for the first time in a long time, the whirling in her brain had slowed, her constant questions replaced with certainty.


End file.
